Another Winter passed on Jormungand's teeth, harsh and cold. The winds regularly whipped the land and some times, the islanders stayed several days locked into their house to escape the blizzard coming from the North. But those violent winds ended soon enough. Winter was still here, but the grass lost its cloak of snow and froze as well as the ground. Farming had become impossible.
Fortunately, the harvest had been fruitful. Rollo's stocks were filled with cereals and vegetables while herds and flocks were kept safe from Winter in barns. Alfrid and the other cooks stopped cooking and baking pies and bread and instead, they made fish stew flavored with various herbs, smoked fish and flat bread. Brewers began to make beer, ale and mead with the honey Borg regularly brought from his lands. It was Winter, yet life was there. Life could not disappear.
After Yule, Valtar, Ida and Thora married. All could remember the two women's happiness and Valtar's joy at the thought he married such fine women. The three of them were united; a family so close nothing could separate them. Their honeymoon lasted three days and they did not went out much then. Usually, Valtar stayed in bed with his two wives curled against him on each other. Valtar did not mind. He loved them and he knew they did too. Soon after their honeymoon, Thora was with child; another birth to grace the island with.
About that same week, Torvi gave birth to a son. A feast had been held to celebrate it and all could see Borg's happiness. But the water was too cold and the ice yet too thick for any ship to bring his wife and son to his hall in Gotaland where his other wife and son were living. Torvi had to stay and although she was polite, she did not hide her disdain and dislike of Jormungand's teeth, too small and calm for her liking.
In the meantime Borg gathered informations from the many spies he had sent in Norway and returned with the thawing of the ice in the fjords. Rollo did not lack of enemies. His brother, king Ragnar was already planning a revenge against him; and king Gram as well as an other king in Sweden who married his grand-daughter, Agnar, had decided to join his efforts in this endeavor. Gram was a king, famous and fierce who was said to have fought giants; he asked other petty kings and low jarls that ruled over small parcels of land to join him and was granted the satisfaction of their agreement. Agnar was a man of great wealth and could afford a large army and many mercenaries; which he put at the disposal of his third and most beloved wife, Ragnhild. Ragnar was only another addition in the picture. Borg's first wife, Alvig, was receiving the spies and envoys and following her husband's wishes, she built the alliance. Borg had found strong allies. With them, he doubted Rollo's island would not sink into the dark abyss of the sea.
War was already back on its way.
But Spring had not yet come. For now, men took care of the ships, repairing them, applying tar on their keels for them to go faster; women wove the sails and sorceresses carefully filled them with magic. As soon as ice and snow left the grass and ground, warriors started training again. Alfrid was becoming better, but Sigrid's thirst for battle was not as strong as her sister and when she could, she went to saw and weave and sheltered into Herleikr's arms. They were close and Eirik had no doubt he would ask her hand in marriage in Summer. He had already decided to accept to let Herleikr marry his daughter, for no man was as gentle and kind than Herleikr when he was with her. Sigrid was happy when Eirik told her this. She only waited one thing; for her father to accept and rejoice at her wedding.
Thorbjorn spent more and more time with Rothrud, the beautiful Rothrud. After what Gunnar tried to do to her, he became more protective of her and often watched for no harm to befall her. And Rothrud felt safe with him. She took shelter in his arms as often as she could. She was so fond of him and enjoyed his presence so much she seized every occasion to be near him. What Gunnar tried to do did not affect the way she saw humans for she knew he had been the only one on the island to try to slay her. The other humans were kind to her and grew to respect her as well as they respected her sister. But she was no fool; other humans wanted her end and to slay mermaids. To those humans, she would have no mercy; and she would drown them all.
It seemed love bloomed on Jormungand's teeth; love and dedication. Many children were given birth and their mothers survived; a gift from the gods. Many daughters and a few sons. More sorceresses than warriors or berserkers. But Rollo knew women were as fierce, if not more, as men; Aslaug, Lagertha, his mother and all the women he ever met were a proud example of this. He would not mind leading an army of shield-maidens.
But alas for Rollo and Gisla's wishes, they could not conceive a child, for a mermaid and a human were not of the same kind. And every time a woman gave birth, a part of them rejoiced and another mourned for what they could not have.
Rollo kept dreaming about the wolf. Each night, it came back, like a shadow forever following him. The wolf struck the land and ships more intensely each night. Sometimes, Siggy came to visit either Rollo or Gisla, still declaiming senseless sentences; sentences one would only understand when they would happen. Siggy and the wolf were part of a same dream and each night, they relayed each other to remind mortals of a tapestry that could not be unwoven.
Rollo and Gisla often talked about those dreams when they were playing tafl and if there was something they agreed on, it was that those dreams were messages of the gods that something had been left unfinished and that another battle was coming; hence why Rollo tried to train his warriors as much as he could and improved his ships. He must be prepared.
The nights of Winter were filled with light coloring the sky and the sea; a myriad of colors, vibrant and dancing. The nights of Winter were cold and warm. Rollo could not count those nights he went to look at the lights with Thorbjorn, imagining Baldr painting the sky, drank with Eirik and laughed, or simply laid on a fur cloak on the ground, looking at them and the stars with his beloved wife, on their cliff dominating the sea. The nights of Winter were cold and full of happiness.
And one day, air warmed, flowers bloomed on the roofs of the houses, grass lost its frozen coat and the sea was warm again. The sun began to shine with more intensity and the days became longer. They were no longer prisoner of an endless night but of endless days.
Sol was back to grace the sky with its presence and Baldr ruled; Freyr wandered around the lands, painting a thousand colors on the grass and the trees. The world was living again after a long night of sleep and silence.
Spring was here.
And with it, war.
That day of Spring, Rollo was in his hall, eating with Thorbjorn, Eirik, his daughters, Gisla and his sister; a habit they developed during Winter. Rollo enjoyed having them all with him as he ate or drank. They often told stories by the hearth, and some nights, their presence reminded Rollo of the days of Winer he spent with his parents and siblings back in Norway. He had a family again; a family who loved him and who he chose.
"The grounds are warming." Eirik said. "In a few days, we will sow new seed and farm again. Last year has been harsh enough and I hope our harvest will be excellent this year. Although we will need not to use as large fields as before since many of the farmers died."
"If the harvest is not good enough, we'll just have to trade." Rollo said. "Trade can allow us to sell smoked fish, jewelries and mead. We can send ships to the Rus and the Danes. I heard that Hedeby is becoming an important place to trade in spite of its small size and regularly burned hall; maybe it will be a good idea to send men there."
"And with our income and profit, we will buy wheat and everything we cannot find on the island, such as wood." Gisla finished.
Rollo smiled. It had become a habit between the two to finish what the other meant; as if they were one and the same person, sharing a same mind.
"My thoughts exactly." Rollo tenderly said while kissing Gisla's hand.
"So what about the fields that will be unused?" Sigrid asked.
"We can still use them as fallow fields and if the population of the island grows, we will sow grains. It can always be used." Rollo said.
"The farmers will have to work twice harder." Thorbjorn noted. "I hope that they will at least be well paid."
"It will depend of our profit, really." Rollo said.
"Will you use the terrain which is where Gunnar was buried since it is far from the village?" Alfrid asked.
Rothrud and Gisla's face darkened and a growl echoed in Thorbjorn's throat. Even dead, Gunnar was not forgiven for what he tried to do. His foolish and disgraceful actions brought many insults and hatred from almost everyone he knew. And his own selfishness cost him all his allies.
"No." Rollo said. "The place where he is buried is cursed. No wheat or grain shall be harvested and grown there. I do not want my people to be poisoned. Let him rot there until Ragnarök, alone and sad. I do not want anyone to go near it. I have been clear when we buried his body. It is because of his disgraceful nature that he lies outside the village, cursed until the end of time."
"Was it Thora who cursed the soils?" Eirik inquired.
"His mere presence is enough to curse it." Gisla said. "With Rothrud we begged Ran and Aegir to salt the ground; it can not be used anymore. And I believe Thora cursed it too."
"Ran and Aegir complied?" Sigrid asked.
"They did." Rothrud said. "And now, we are avenged."
"So if I understand correctly, we will still farm enough to sustain our needs and to build stocks for next Winter and at the same time we will keep trading with the Rus and the Danes of Hedeby?" Alfrid asked.
"Yes. That is the plan. If we have more outcome than we need, we will sell them. But for now, we can only trade wool, furs and fish." Rollo said.
"I hope the rabbits we hunted with Sig this Winter will bring money." Alfrid muttered.
"I know it will." Eirik kindly said.
"I wish we had more animals to hunt and eat." Alfrid sighed. "Remember, Sig, when we hunted that deer? And the bear?"
"They were huge. Without your spears we could have never won. We would have been dead." Sigrid said with a gentle smile while Herleikr held her hand.
"It fed the camp of berserkers for a week." Alfrid said with a wide smile. "I wish we were back in the forest. But there are no trees here, only grass and water." said she with melancholy.
"Enough to keep you safe." Eirik brutally said. "What father would I have been if I let you in the forest, alone, with no family to reach? What man would I have been to Bikka if I had let her daughters starved and sad? What man is a man who abandons his daughters?"
Sigrid and Alfrid lowered their eyes and looked at each other. Both exchanged a sorry look and looked back to their father, communicating without even words. They knew their father's sorrow and resentment. But they also knew he loved them and they loved him. In spite of the lack of time they had spent with him, he was a good father; an anchor in a turmoiled sea.
"I could not leave you behind. You are my daughters and although I gave you the choice to follow me, had you refused, I would have stayed or taken you with me. I cannot be separated from my daughters. I have spent enough time away from you and ever since you came to the camp I have sworn to look after you and spend the rest of my life with you." Eirik said, tears wetting his eyes. "So here you are now; on an island which shelters us; water and land as a protection. My oath to Bikka is clear; I will never leave you. I will always stay with you."
"What did she look like, your Bikka?" Rothrud asked.
"Bikka... Bikka was..." Eirik began.
Suddenly his face lightened and he gave the widest smile he had ever given; a smile so bright the sun would have been ashamed. His face suddenly was ten years younger, beautiful and joyful. For a brief moment, everything he had ever lived since he left Bikka disappeared; wolfed by time and love. Eirik was young again. Eirik was more handsome than Baldr himself.
"Bikka, my beautiful Bikka. She was kind and dedicated. But she was strong also. She endured everything her masters put her through. She was a slave and did not lack courage. She had enough bravery to take her life in her own hands when she discovered she was pregnant. She chased me for years. I wish she found me." he said, suddenly grim and sorry. "I often dream of a day she would have found me with Alfrid and Sigrid. I dream of her and her pale skin, her black hair, so dark it seemed made of night and her eyes, so peculiar, narrow and laughing. Bikka was fair and graceful. She was the best woman I have ever known."
"Bikka is not a name from Norway, no?" Rothrud asked, brows furrowed.
"She came from the North; a tribe which wandered around mountains covered with ice. When she told me that I thought she was descended from the giants. I wondered if she was a Jotunn. I remembered when I shared my thoughts. Her laugh, so sweet and heartwarming. And she gave me two fine daughters to honor her. She gave me another gift; she named them with names from my own tongue. Perhaps another way she found to show everyone that they are my daughters."
"Not that there are any doubts with their faces and hair. I feel like looking at you, but instead of a man I see two women." Rollo said with an amused smile.
Eirik laughed and punched Rollo in the arm. Rollo gave a groan of pain and laughed.
"I am saddened though, that they look more like me than Bikka. Bikka was beautiful. I am not as beautiful as she was." Eirik said with a sudden melancholy.
Alfrid and Sigrid frowned.
"Does that mean we are ugly?" Sigrid harshly asked.
Eirik gave an amused laugh. "Of course not. You are fine women. Even scarred you remain what I did the best; two beautiful women. I am simply sad I do not get to recall your mother as much as before. Every second that passes, I feel like I forget her face and her voice. It makes me sad, for I love your mother; I love her as if I had a hundred hearts. She is my life and joy. I could speak about her for hours."
"Not that you did not mind seven years ago." Rollo noted. "Remember, Thorbjorn, when we had to stand his drunken ass declaiming odes to his Bikka for an entire night?"
"How could I?" Thorbjorn laughed."I am still pissed off about this. You owe me a fight Eirik." he said pointing his finger at Eirik.
"If I fight you, you'll kill me. And I cannot do that to my daughters. I have an oath to keep." Eirik said, laughing in between words.
"Coward." Thorbjorn joked, standing up. "Come and fight me, you bastard."
Eirik laughed and stood up. Both men, began to wrestle in the great hall. Thorbjorn received Rothrud's encouragements and Eirik, his daughters'. Herleikr laughed and drank while watching. Gisla was given the impression of two wolves playing with one another; a tender scene. A fight with no violence nor hatred. She caught herself thinking that it must be good, fighting not to hurt, but only to play; no deaths, no bloodbath, only playfulness and joy. But she was dragged back to reality soon enough; war would begin again, whether Ragnar was the enemy or Ragnhild. All her dreams and pictures vanished, devoured by the hard truth of the world.
"Rollo," she said while the others were playing. "We are not out of danger. Winter left and Spring came. It is the season of War."
"I know." Rollo said, sipping his ale. "We must ready for this dreaded fight. Ragnar will attack soon and Ragnhild too. The only question left is when."
"I fear the day they will attack. I fear the unexpected." Gisla said, tenderly holding Rollo's hand.
"Humans and mermaids have this in common then." Rollo said, trying to cheer her up with a smile. "But fear not, for we are ready. Besides, we have an ally in the person of Borg. It has been a season he is here and so far, he did nothing. So perhaps he is a trustworthy ally."
"Perhaps." Gisla said. "But I hate waiting for the eventuality of an attack."
"I know. I feel like we are back in the pool of water Torstein discovered us in a year ago. Amazing how things have changed. For the best." he added.
"Either way we cannot do anything yet." Gisla sighed. "And we cannot afford staying forever on this island. We must keep going. We must move. We must start trading again. For our future and the future of our people."
"The first ship will leave in a week. Just the time for the water to warm up." Rollo said.
"To Hedeby?" Gisla asked.
"Yes. Will you and Rothrud go with the traders?" Rollo asked.
"I don't know. I do not want to leave you and I do not want Rothrud to risk being captured or killed by humans. It will be her choice, of course, but..."
"I know how much you love your sister, do not worry." Rollo said. "Rothrud." Rollo called.
"Hm?"
"Do you want to join the first ship of the season to go trade with Hedeby?" Rollo asked.
"No." Rothrud replied. "It is not against you, humans, but I would rather want to stay with my sister. I do not want to leave the island to be at the mercy of humans."
"Told you." Gisla whispered to Rollo. "I know her well."
"She is your sister. Of course you know her well." Rollo whispered back. "Fine then. The first trading ship will leave in about a week. I will ask Valtar to lead it."
"But war..." Alfrid began.
"I know we have enemies, but for now, we have to build our economy. That is a risk I am willing to take for this island to be prosperous." Rollo said. "A ship will sail. End of the debate."
And Rollo kept his word. About a week later, a ship filled with smoked fish, jewels Thorbjorn and the sorceresses made, wool and weapons left the island to Hedeby, led by Valtar who had left Thora to run his house and took Ida as a protection against attackers. The farewells between her and Thora had been filled with tears and anxiety. Thora was afraid for Ida and Ida was afraid for Thora's health. If anything happened to the other, they would never overcome this. And Valtar would resent himself until the end of times.
Weeks passed with no news of the ship. Fear and apprehension started growing on the island. The unknown was terrifying and the absence of news was even more. Thora tried everyday to catch a glimpse of their presence of Midgard. She stayed locked in her house so often people started to fear for her health. And when she was not inside, she was gazing in the distance, standing on the shore swept by the winds of Spring, her long hair flowing to where Ida was, like the threads the Norns wove.
The ship became a ghost; an idea doomed to fade from men's memory.
Then, about a month and a few weeks after Valtar's departure, the ship came back, soaked with blood, its prow, broken, the mast, damaged and the sail ripped off. It seemed almost impossible that this ship was even floating on water. Rollo's heart sank in his chest when he saw the scene. Thora gave a long terrible scream of agony and started weeping as soon as she saw the red keel of the boat.
Corpses. On the deck, a pile of corpses; among them, men Rollo knew and respected.
He suddenly felt the so familiar feeling of guilt and grief fill his heart. Again some people of his were dead. Again he was the king of a graveyard.
All of a sudden the pile of dead moved and two people, deeply injured got out. Valtar and Ida. Thora gave a loud sob of relief and ran to help Ida out of the boat. The shieldmaiden was the most wounded one. A deep cut gave out a lot of blood on her back and it seemed like she was covered with bruises. Valtar, on the other hand seemed to have been spared by the violence of the fight since he was the one who bled the less. Thora knew it was Ida who protected him.
With Thora, he helped Ida go on the pontoon, painting, his left arm twisted in a horrid way.
"Someone help Ida to her bed!" Rollo ordered. "Thorbjorn, Sigrid. Tend her wounds."
The latter nodded and complied.
"Ida, my sweet Ida. Rollo let me go with her. I cannot leave her side. If she... if she..." Thora said between sobs of despair.
"She won't die. She is strong. Go with her since it is your wish." Rollo kindly said.
Thora nodded and closed her eyes to suppress a sob. If she wept now, Ida would not be given the honor of the afterlife; she would wander on the surface of an endless sea for eternity, her soul wasted. Thora could not have this.
"Valtar," Rollo said turning to the warrior as Ida was escorted to her bed. "come with me. I want to know what happened."
They walked to the great hall and Valtar was helped on a chair and given food and water. A healer was summoned to tend his wounds while they spoke.
"Tell me everything." Rollo said when Valtar finished his water and food.
"On the first week all was well." he replied with efforts. "We traded first with the Rus, then to Hedeby. We stayed about a week on each town. But then, as we were about to leave and return here, we were attacked by several ships and drifted for a week long. A crow banner. Your brother."
Rollo sighed. So he attacked. So it began. He closed his eyes and gave another sigh.
"Go on." he said.
"They attacked us. But they seemed to have spared Ida. They wanted to kill me but she protected me with all her strength and rage. Ida was... she was brave. She was a true Valkyrie. Her fury would have made Freya jealous." Valtar said. "The men who slaughtered the crew, they said something after they destroyed our ships. I can't even fathom how we survived."
"What did they say?" Rollo asked with a super-human patience.
"They said that your brother declared war to us. They said they would kill us all and that this ship is an example of what they'll do to us. They said they will attack in a few weeks."
"How many weeks?" Rollo impatiently asked.
"Right after the Varthing." Valtar said. "ARGH!" he yelled as the healer twisted back his arm to repair it.
"That is three weeks from now." Rollo said, standing up. "This does not gives us much time." he said as he paced nervously. "We must train and ready the warships. I only hope the sorceresses finished their sails. We must also prepare in the eventuality of a loss. The people must survive."
Then, he stopped.
"Then, I suppose I must communicate this information to an assembly tonight." Rollo said. "Now, you can rest, Valtar. You earned some peace after what happened. Magnhildr, help him, please."
"Alright. Stand Valtar. Your wives awaits." Magnhildr said.
"I am sorry Rollo." Valtar said. "I could not protect them."
"We will bury them tonight. With any luck, they went to Folkvangr or Valhalla." Rollo said. "Now rest before Thora's worries increase."
Valtar gave a weak smile and helped by Magnhildr, went to his house where his wives were waiting for him. Rollo gave another sigh. He would go to war again; fight his brother again. He must protect his people and what he built but at the same time he did not want to fight Ragnar eternally. There had to be another way. In spite of their history, Rollo loved his brother. He had his victory, now they were even. But Ragnar chose to not to lose. Why did it have to be like that between them? Why were they always competing? Ever since they were children they fought? What drove brothers to this level of hatred and violence? Why couldn't they be at peace?
Rollo wanted to believe there could be peace, but deep in his heart, he knew their eternal fight would only end with the death of one of them. And although Rollo did not want Ragnar dead, he did not want to die either. There was nothing to prevent loss. Rollo could not die and he could not let his enemies seize the island. He would fight Ragnar and win so he could protect the island from Ragnhild. His legacy was too important.
People were summoned and all gathered in the great hall, aware of the importance of Valtar's return and the slaughter on the deck. The hall was nothing but whispers and apprehension. Rollo sat on his black throne and Gisla on her white chair. King and queen of the sea, the announcement they were going to make was of highest importance. Borg was standing in front and so was Thorbjorn, Eirik and Herleikr. Valtar was in his house, watching over Ida while Thora begged the gods to spare her beloved shieldmaiden.
Rollo stood up and looked at the crowd, his eyes filled with regrets and sorrow. As he stood up, whispers vanished and all eyes went on him.
"For the second time in our History, we have been declared war. And like before, it is my brother who declared war to us." Rollo announced. "Let it be known that in three weeks, all of our warriors and warships shall sail to Norway where we will fight. And let it be known that the remaining inhabitants of the island shall hide on that island in front of ours; the one one cannot go unless one has the protection of a mermaid."
The crowd nodded, stunned by the news; stunned to go to war again, dreading losses and deaths; dreading grief and sadness.
Gisla gave Rollo a sorry look, but deep inside she was satisfied she was given another occasion to avenge her old wounds Ragnar brought her. Nevertheless, she could feel Rollo's misery at the thought of fighting with his brother again. And for the first time in a year, her old conflict between the love she felt for Rollo and her thirst for revenge came back to consume her.
"Gisla, Rothrud," Rollo said turning to the two mermaids beside him. "Will you join us?"
"I will." Gisla said with determination. "My waves are yours."
"Rothrud?" Rollo asked.
Rothrud gave Thorbjorn a sorry look. If he died and she did not partake in that battle, she would be miserable. She had to fight. If not for her, at least for him.
"I am not as good as mermaid as my sister. But I believe my voice will be useful." Rothrud said. "I will join you."
Rollo nodded, then turned to Borg. "Now is the time to prove your loyalty and to fulfill your oath of allegiance. Will you join me and my army in battle?"
Borg looked at Torvi for a moment and gently held her hand, then kissed their babe. "For my wife and son who shall remain here, I will. My ships and blades are yours. Although, I will need to send word of this to my first wife. She will make arrangements for more ships and warriors to join us."
"Perhaps you should send Torvi and your son back in Gotaland, then." Thorbjorn said.
Torvi's face suddenly lightened. Home, she would sail back home. She would leave this island and see her home again; its trees, fields and peculiar houses. Her son would grow with his brothers. She wanted it.
"Please." Torvi said to Borg. "For our son, let me go back there."
Borg kindly cupped her face with his hands and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "Then I agree. For our son."
Torvi gave a smile and kissed Borg's cheek. She was glad.
"Then it is decided." Rollo said. "You will send a ship to Gotaland and be back with all your men and ships by the end of those three weeks. Torvi will lead those ships as I suspect your wife is competent. You will stay here with me to prepare for war."
"It is agreed, Rollo." Borg said.
"Good. We shall bury the men on Valtar's ship tonight. We will feast. And then, we will begin training." Rollo announced. "I cannot lose any more of you." he finished with sadness.
A sincere sadness. The crowd almost felt his resentment and anguish. If anything, Rollo's mood proved he cared about his people. If anything, it proved they did the right thing by making him a king of the sea.
They buried the dead that night. The beach was sadness and grief; a tearless grief. The most heartbreaking of all. Crueler was this grief knowing that another might soon come. It felt almost impossible escaping the pit of despair that so many loss dug. No one could escape death. It always found a way.
Torvi left the island with her babe and the next three weeks were spent either by training, weaving or farming to build stocks in the eventuality the people had to flee to another island with no fields to farm. Everything was ready for an eventual loss.
Rothrud and Gisla trained their voices, summoned monsters of water and currents powerful enough to sink fleets. The sorceresses of the island finished weaving the sails and before the end of the third week, five large warships came ashore Jormungand's teeth, bringing more than two hundred warriors with them. It was then Rollo fully understood Borg's power. It was then he started doubting.
But he needed those ships and warriors to protect what he built. He needed to fight for them, if not for him. Everything was ready for the next battle; the first of Spring.
The day after the Varthing, Rollo's first since he became a king of the sea, as he was eating in his hall, savoring peace and quiet with his chosen family, Thora entered the room, visibly shocked and in a hurry. Rollo gave her a look filled with curiosity.
"Thora? Is something wrong?" he asked. "Is it Ida and Valtar?"
Thora shook her head. "No. Valtar is well and will be able to fight again. He only needs to rest. And Ida... she will live. She regained consciousness two days ago. The last few weeks has been... it has been..." she hesitated, tears coming to her eyes. "I was so afraid." she finished with a sob.
"Come and sit." Gisla said with compassion.
Thora nodded and sat on the chair next to Alfrid who gave her some of her food and offered her a cup of ale. Thora drank and wiped out her tears.
"They cannot go to war with you Rollo." Thora said. "They are not fully healed yet."
"I know." Rollo said. "I wasn't going to ask them anyway. Now, tell me, what happened? What made you come to see me?"
"A dream." Thora said. "Something that appeared to me tonight; a vision from the gods. I cannot help thinking it is related to the battle we are facing."
"What was this dream?" Sigrid asked with curiosity.
"A cat purring to a golden sword on a tall mountain covered with blood and gold. A giant cat which could eat the mountain and which tongue was the tongue of a serpent." Thora said.
"Do the gods ever speak clearly?" Rollo groaned.
"Perhaps." Thora said. "But the meaning of those visions will only reveal itself when they'll come true."
"What am I to do with this?" Rollo groaned, his head in her hand.
"I do not know." Thora said. "My only advice is to be careful. I just needed to tell you this; the danger is real and I believe that we face a bigger threats than we think."
"Your advices has been heard." Rollo said. "But this night again, the wolf came to haunt my dreams. I can only hope this means we will win."
"The serpents can vanquish the wolf. And it can be eaten by the cat. Be careful Rollo. For our island and our sake." Thora advised.
Rollo nodded. "Thank you for your advices."
Thora nodded back; a thanksgiving. Then, she stood up and left the hall. Rollo watched her walk out and gave a long sigh. In spite of all those visions the future was more uncertain than ever. Who could tell he would win? Who could predict the victor in a battle woven long ago? Not humans, nor mermaids. Only the Norns knew what they wove. And those three weavers took great care of hiding their work even in the eyes of the gods.
Rollo and Gisla did not talk that night. They barely slept. The air was so filled with tension neither of them wanted to break it and drown in this ineluctable atmosphere that always preceding a decisive battle. They did not make love either. They were paralyzed; incapable of savoring the last remain of peace they were given that clear and warm night.
Rollo tried to smile in the dark of the night, his eyes locked on his mermaid wife by his side. He gently took her hand and suddenly all felt right. The tension was still here, but holding hands was enough and as soon as her skin touched his, it became the most loving act ever done.
The sun, relief and traitor rose slowly in the sky. That day had finally arrived; that fated day when Rollo had to leave his island, his home, to wage war, fighting a brother he loved and hated at the same time. After he ate with Gisla in their bed, he put her underwater and headed towards the end of his house. His eyes lingered on the wood, carved with his deeds, his hearth, so large and warm in Winter, his table and chair, symbol of his new found family, his throne and Gisla's, on the same height symbolizing their equality.
He looked around and what he saw was himself and the man he had always wanted to be. He knew Harald would have been proud of his accomplishments as a man. He was proud of himself for achieving everything he had ever wanted to achieve. His house called him; it became his anchor, his rock in a raging sea.
Walking out of his house took all his willpower. He wanted to stay inside. He wanted never to leave his island, so peaceful and green. He did not want to leave. If he left, he felt he would never see the green grass and tender moss of Jormungand's teeth, its black beach and dark waters; its rocks and rabbits; its houses and herds of sheep. If he left, he would lose a part of himself.
With pain he arrived at the dock when the warriors were already loading with their weapons and tied their shields on the boats. He saw another ship, large enough to contain every remaining people left on the island to carry them to another island. Jormungand's teeth was to be deserted again; forgotten as well as its inhabitants. What a waste. Everything ever built on its ground, thrown to time and oblivion.
Then, he looked at the people gathering on the ship. Women, children, men. A legacy. It was them who were the soul of the island; them who carried his legacy and his stories; them who would told it to their children and remember a time where a human ruled over the sea with a mermaid. Rollo felt relief fill his heart with warmth. At this moment, he knew Jormungand's teeth was going to survive.
Once all the islanders on the ship, Gisla and Rothrud escorted it to another island; not the one Rollo wanted, but an island of their own choice which they communicated to Thora and the twins. They did not trust Borg and they decided to act to prevent anything to happen to those humans they grew to love. Fortunately for their plans, the lengskip disappeared in the horizon line and, invisible, they managed to deliver the humans on the island they chose, where the islanders immediately set the camp and pulled the boat ashore.
Once Gisla returned, it was time for the warriors to board the boat. Rollo was already on his ship and was giving Herleikr advices. Thorbjorn was by the water, talking with Rothrud, holding her hand gently and the twins were on the pontoon, forehead to forehead, whispering to give themselves courage.
"Together. Always." Gisla heard Alfrid say.
"Together, always." Sigrid answered.
Gisla suddenly heard someone approach in the water. She was expecting Rollo, but it was Eirik who faced her.
"Gisla?" he called. "Gisla I want to ask you a favor. If I ever die at sea, please, do not take my soul. Let me wander to other halls. Let me go to my Bikka. Do not keep me separated from her longer than I should. please. I am asking you as a friend."
"Why would you die in battle?" Gisla asked, confused.
"I almost died once. It opens a man's eyes. I am not eternal, I know that and I am aging; weakening." Eirik said. "So, will you let me wander to other halls?"
Gisla closed her eyes and sighed. "For love, I will." she eventually said. "I know that if it happened to Rollo and I, I would want him to go with me. Or go with him for all that matter. Ran will be displeased, but who will I be if I refuse?"
"Thank you." Eirik said, nodding with gratitude. "Hopefully, it will never come to this."
"Hopefully." Gisla replied, hiding her anxiety.
"On board!" Rollo roared, suppressing any sign of apprehension.
Eirik gave Gisla a smile full of gratitude. He became a friend; a man she respected for everything he tried with his daughters. Sometimes, Gisla wondered what it must be to be the daughter of such a father.
The warriors gathered on the ships and sailed away, helped by the currents Gisla summoned. Rollo had asked her not to use her voice and Galdr before the battle in order to preserve it, but Gisla couldn't help; she was born to help her people. And right now, her people were Rollo's.
Within a few minutes, the deserted island was no more than a vague memory, emptied from its life and inhabitants. And soon, its triangular shape, lost into the mist of the morning, was nothing more than a legend; a myth fated to survive through voices and tales.
The sea was calm and gentle that morning, sparing violence to the warriors for it knew its waters would soon be colored with blood. There was no need for it yet; it would come soon enough. The calm breathing of the sea was a gift; a last remain of peace and quiet for the men to remember how sweet life was and how peaceful death was. For them to remind them what they were fighting for.
A few days they sailed on that peaceful sea. Tension was thick and men did not speak that much. Even Eirik's jokes and Rollo's songs were not enough to lighten the mood. Under water, Gisla gathered her strengths and her voice, Rothrud by her side. They were almost there, she knew it; almost in sight of Norway's shores.
And finally, after days at sea, they saw the familiar shape of the entrance of a fjord. They were here. They arrived at war.
In front of Rollo's fleet, another. Dozens of warships placed at the entrance of the fjord. Rollo screwed his eyes up, trying to look better at what was in front of him. His brother was here, with ten ships bearing his crow banner. Rollo grinned and gave a scoff. So Floki managed to build ten ships back. And it seemed that Ragnar had managed to gather more men to fight with him. Nothing surprising with it; he was a king and a king with enough spoils and riches could afford such an army. Lagertha was here too and when he saw her familiar figure, Rollo's heart gave a weak leap of joy. He was content she was there; he was glad he could fight her again like they did when they were children.
Then, he looked around to the other ships and frowned when he saw the banner they bore.
"Whose ships are they?" he asked Thorbjorn, next to him.
"I recognize Gram's banner." he replied.
"Ragnhild." Rollo muttered angrily.
So she managed to build an alliance with his brother. So his blood family sought his destruction. How happy Ragnar must have been to welcome their cousin. How happy he must have been to be able to destroy him with her. How happy he must have been to spread his hatred of him with her.
And yet, when Rollo saw Ragnar's eyes, for a brief moment, he saw regrets and sorrow. Was it possible that, like him, Ragnar was tired of fighting? Was it possible that Gyda spread a longing for peace in his heart?
A first volley of arrows answered his questions. Instinctively, the warriors rose their shields to protect themselves from that rain of death, pouring over their heads. The battle began, not leaving any occasion to build peace and understanding, violent and mad; thirsty for blood. War was cruel and merciless.
Gisla and Rothrud began to sing, sinking one ship and damaging another with a great thunderous crash. Destabilized by the sound and the spray of water produced by the action, the archers stopped shooting arrow. A decisive moment.
"Archers in front!" Rollo roared. "Fire at will! The others, ready the ships to board our enemies."
Quickly, the archers shot their arrows, Sigrid's sticking straight into the heads of the warriors they were approaching, while the rest of the warriors removed the paddles, the mast and tied the ships together. Once prepared, the two structures composed of ships headed towards the two extremity of the line the fleet formed before them, preventing them from entering the fjord.
Once recovered from their surprise, the archers in front began to shoot again while Rollo's warriors created an armor made of shields above their heads. The mermaids kept singing, harvesting men's souls and trying to sink the ships protected by Aslaug's magic. But such magic was yet too strong and the mermaids only succeeded in damaging the keel. Nevertheless they kept singing. Those ships had to sink and they will sink!
"Gisla!" Rollo called. "Push!"
Gisla understood. She sang to give Rollo's ships speed while Rothrud did the same with Borg's and Eirik's. Rollo gave a laugh, invigorated with the speed the structure was taking and the spray refreshing his body. Rollo looked at the boats they were going to board, closer; always closer. With the speed they had taken, it would be a wonder the ships would still float.
Closer. Closer. Almost there.
"IMPACT!" Rollo roared.
And the next second, with a loud sound of wood breaking and a thunderous noise Rollo could swear had been heard back in Jormungand's teeth, the structure hit one of Gram's boat, splitting it in half and severely damaged another. Men drowned. Men screamed, their members being pierced with wood, arms and legs severed, drowning in their own blood mixing with salt water.
Then, Gisla began her dance of death again, eyes turned black and skin white, singing, harvesting; dutiful and unforgiving. Men screamed under water, wasting their last breaths while their souls were being ripped off and carried to Ran's hall.
The structure made of ships stopped halfway the second ship they hit. Rollo grinned. Carnage. He was back in the arms of his first love. Blood and sweat; screams and pain. Battle was home. He let go of all his boundaries. Now was the time to go berserk. With a few men, they ate mushrooms hastily and they ran into battle, jumping from the deck of their ships to the other.
Now he forgot about peace. Now was the time of war and death. His ire took him with the strength of one of Gisla's wave and with feral roars he struck a man with his axe and his blood spattered his face. As comfortable as the ocean's spray.
Rollo laughed and saw Thorbjorn cutting men in half with his Dane axe. Sigrid was still shooting arrows while Alfrid threw spears that pierced the chest of the men who came forward to attack.
Soon, all was red. Keels were red. Water was red. Metal was red. Redder was skin. It seemed like blood was soon going to replace water.
Rollo killed and killed. Gisla harvested. He did not know how many people he killed but soon enough, they were rid of another ship and headed to the other one, sparing no one.
Suddenly, Floki and Torstein appeared in front of Rollo, their faces carved with a look full of hatred. Rollo did not care. He did not see. All he knew was that he had to slaughter. With his sword, he struck Torstein's arm and ripped it off. Torstein gave a long scream of pain and rage. He tried to kill him, but Rollo dodged the blow and instead, threw his body to the sea; to the mermaids and their songs. Torstein was dead and resentment filled Rollo's heart for a second. But he suppressed it. He killed old comrades before. One more; what difference did it make?
Floki screamed with rage, insulting Rollo, cursing him for all eternity. But Rollo did not listen. He was entranced and his ears shut from reason. He was the mad wolf and he wanted to ravage the world. Floki began to fight him, but Rollo struck him with the pommel of his sword, straight in the jaw, which made a disgusting sound of bones breaking. He was about to slit his throat when he was dragged back to reality and the chaos the battle was by Eirik's loud screams and Herleikr's voice.
"TREASON!" they roared.
Rollo looked at what was going on on the other side of the line of boats and noticed with annoyance that Gisla had been right.
Borg was now attacking Rollo's warriors, reducing their numbers, sparing Ragnar's and Gram's. He yelled something and instantly, his men who were fighting alongside Rollo's warriors turned back on them and attacked them. But some of the berserkers were already to intoxicated with the violence of the battle and cut their heads with their axes.
But their victory was now compromised when a few seconds ago it was granted. And a few berserkers were not enough in spite of the alarming number of warriors they killed.
Sigrid and Alfrid dropped bow, arrows and spears and ran into battle, using their swords to knock off men, destroy their jaws and slit their throats. With their shields, they pushed away the warriors, offering them to the abyss of a cruel sea. They progressed fast and within a few minutes, they were already on the fourth boat of the line while Rollo and his warriors, in spite of Borg's, fewer by his side, were fighting for the fifth.
Lagertha and her shield-maidens were now facing them. Lagertha gave a grin noticing Sigrid's scars and her determination. That girl, despite the fact that she was an enemy, was strong and enduring for her age. And her sister seemed fiercer than even a storm. Lagertha was proud of this. She respected it. What a shame those fierce young women she faced had to die. What a shame to destroy something this beautiful.
With a raging roar, Lagertha pushed Sigrid with her shield while one of her shieldmaiden was fighting Alfrid. But Sigrid stood strong and diverted the shield to make Lagertha lose her balance. The older shieldmaiden gave a proud grin. Woman against woman; warrior against warrior. A battle to make Freya proud.
They fought intensely, Sigrid played with her handle and pommel, trying to get on Lagertha's head, but the more experienced warrior knew when to dodge and attack. Alfrid gave an irritated grunt when the woman she was facing made her drop her sword. She bent down, took an arrow while protecting her back with her shield and stuck it in the feet of her opponent. Then, with her axe, she opened her head, her blood, spattering her face.
On the fourth boat, it began a deadly dance between women. A chaos of blood, axe, screams and violence. Blood spattered the deck. Women fell. Bones broke. Members ripped off and souls harvested in the abyss. Death. All around.
Rollo killed. Eirik killed. Herleikr killed. Thorbjorn killed. All on the sea was now a fight for survival. And Borg's men kept slaughtering Rollo's. The alliance built by all of Rollo's enemies was strong. So strong that Rollo saw many of his old friends fall because of Borg's betrayal. Had he not betrayed, Rollo would have won for he had the advantage of the fight. But now, all he could see was familiar faces covered in blood. And then, he realized he was their king. A king who led them to slaughter. What a shame.
The chaos the battle was reaching the three middle ships. Gisla was still underwater, trying desperately to sink the ships while harvesting. But a mermaid, even helped by another could not divide her focus that long. A choice had to be made. And Gisla chose harvest.
On the deck of the ships, the battle became more intense. Eirik was still alive and rejoined Rollo and Thorbjorn's side. The three of them in battle; just like the good old days. Herleikr ran to Sigrid, to help her against Lagertha who gained advantage while Alfrid fought more shield-maidens with efforts, trying not to fall on her knees out of exhaustion.
It was then that a flash hit Eirik's eyes. He turned his head to its source and saw that it came from the blade of an axe, right behind Alfrid. She was about to be slaughtered, the axe, ravaging her head and body. The man behind gave a roar to give him strength.
"NO!" Eirik roared.
Invigorating by adrenaline and fear, he jumped to where Alfrid was and diverted the blow with a broken shield nearby. The warrior dropped his blade but took a long knife from his belt and before Eirik had any chance to retaliate, the warrior stabbed him, right in the heart before he slit his throat.
"NO!" Alfrid screamed, tears filling her eyes. "FATHER! FATHER STAND UP!" she kept screaming.
"EIRIK!" Rollo and Thorbjorn roared.
Thorbjorn slit the man in half with his axe with a raging roar and Rollo pierced his chest with his sword.
"FATHER!" Sigrid screamed.
The twins ran to where their father lied, dead while Herleikr, Thorbjorn and Rollo protected them from the fury of the battle, and while Lagertha was suddenly overwhelmed by some of Rollo's berserkers she slew one by one, receiving cuts here and there. Strangely, Ragnar did not seek to fight Rollo, staying behind, fighting other warriors.
"Father, oh father." Alfrid wept, her heart dead and mourning. "It is my fault. It is my fault, I am so sorry."
"Oh Al." Sigrid cried, embracing her sister.
"Don't touch me!" Alfrid cried. "See the good I did to him? Dad! Dad!" she cried, gripping her father's shirt as to bring him back on Midgard. "Please don't go. I need you."
"Al. He is dead." Sigrid sobbed. "He is dead. Do not die too. Remember our promise?"
"Together. Always." Alfrid sobbed back.
"Get up! The time to mourn has not yet come! Now we must retreat!" Rollo yelled. "Herleikr! The ship! Gather the men and lead it!"
"Will do!" Herleikr said. "ALL MEN WITH ME!" he screamed.
With a furious rage, Herleikr ran to the boat, killing any enemy on his way, opening a path for the men who had not been slaughtered yet. On his way, he took Sigrid by the hand, leading her away from her father's corpse. Sigrid, who took her sister's hand and used all her strength to tear her away from Eirik. Both cried. But Sigrid could not afford to lose a father and a sister. She would not survive this.
While Herleikr went to the ship they were supposed to take to retreat, Thorbjorn and Rollo defended their back against the army in front of them, outnumbered. Between the two, it was Thorbjorn who had the most opponents for all warriors immediately recognized his strength and violence. But in spite of all the men he slaughtered it seemed his opponents fell and rose back such as corpses left on the battlefield coming back for vengeance and death. It seemed all the men he slaughtered in his life were back to end him; unkillable. Unbeatable.
And then, outnumbered, Thorbjorn fell, his body pierced by a hundred arrows, cut by a dozen of blade, butchered by axes. Thorbjorn fell, covered with blood and flesh, overboard, in the sea, doomed to the abyss, coloring the water with his blood. Thorbjorn was dead.
Rollo looked at his friend's body fall and gave a raging scream filled with tears. The last friend he ever had, the last true friend he ever had, died and he had not been able to protect him. Thorbjorn and Eirik were dead, with them, a part of what Rollo was. Somehow, it hurt him more than a thousand of blades piercing his body. He would no longer laugh at Eirik's jokes. He would no longer see Thorbjorn's hands work metal and hear his deep voice declaim poetry and wisdom.
Dead.
Rollo heard a wrecking scream of pain in the abyss. He recognized Rothrud's voice. He recognized the anguish and sorrow; the infinite sadness it was to lose someone one loved. This scream almost broke his heart.
Rollo suppressed his tears and the wave of misery following his friends' deaths and jumped on board of the ship Herleikr was leading.
Sigrid wept. Alfrid wept. Herleikr wept. The ship was sadness and grief. Then, Rollo looked at Ragnar, in the middle of all those enemies he fought; in the middle of a red sea covered with dead bodies, emptied from their souls. He saw him and his blue eyes, harsh and yet so compassionate. Rollo closed his eyes and turned away.
He lost so much that day. He was not ready to lose any more thing. He was done losing men.
He had a plan.
I don't wanna say that you were warned, but... YOU WERE WARNED! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU ARE SO NOT READY FOR WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT HAHA!