Worship of the Gods

Embrace the darkness
and I will help you see
that you can be limitless and fearless
if you follow me

– Karliene, The Beast

Chapter Twenty-One: Lay of Kraka

Ellie tried to keep a brave face on her, for Lounn's sake. He was petrified of wolves. He'd never seen one before. When they arrived in the training arena after a briefing from Tyr, they came across a dozen wolves chained up, and waiting. As Ellie slipped her fingers around the hilt of her sword, the Warrior's Three entered.

The novices trembled, some holding fat tears in their eyes as they had the pleasure of speaking to their heroes. "Oh, Gods," Lounn whispered, unable to pull his gaze away from the wolves.

"This is a good day," Naeva tried to tell him. "You don't have to be afraid. They're only illusions." But Lounn held her opinion at a distance. Illusions could hurt.

Ellie found herself clutching the hilt and watching as her accomplices enter the training ground. They were all determined, slightly unhinged with nervousness, but better than their first days. Looking at the combat from afar made Ellie think of the warg in the barracks. When she slept, she dreamed of a warg ripping her apart and then its teeth became orphan fingers, telling her she was botched and nobody.

Wolves were quite beautiful from afar, not so friendly when they bore their teeth but elegantly smooth to watch. Their furs were different colours, some white and grey and red, and their snarls were different.

"Looking for inspiration?" asked Ajun, studying Ellie's distant stare. He had grown immensely, the biceps pushed against his linens threateningly. Ellie tried not to be disgruntled by him, but she despised how often he beat her.

"No." Ellie didn't want to tell him a thing. She didn't know what she was looking for, but it definitely wasn't inspiration. It was combative techniques against wolves, she told herself, but the thought was unsettling. It told her that Loki had reported back to Odin, who reported to Tyr, who shifted their training to purposely target Ellie. She did not want to be in control. The warriors around her were just as important as she.

But not answering Ajun was even worse. He was a nosey, prideful man beneath the arrogant exterior. His eyes bore into Ellie's face. "I'm watching Malai's stances," he finally said. "They're sloppy. She's forgotten to keep them spread. We've had weeks of footwork, of balancing on poles and haybales. She's excellent at prancing too, so I can't understand why she's stumbling so much."

He thought her rambling would excite Ellie. She only shot him a disgruntled look. "Bit picky, aren't you?"

Malai screeched and stumbled back. Ellie dared not grimace aloud as it would encourage Ajun to criticise her more. He made certain he was seen as a fit kingsguard, belittling the novices around him.

Lounn bit his nails. "All-gods," he cursed, "I can't sit here and watch this."

The wolf lurched at Malai, nearly biting her bottom jaw off. It startled Lounn so fiecly, that he shot back in his seat and clamped his hands down underneath his bottom.

"Don't be scared," Ellie told him. "If you get scared, then I'll be scared. It'll be a disaster. This is just a small part of our training. Then it's over. In two hours, you'll be bathing in a hot bath full of lilac and gooseberries." Lounn only dug his nails into his under-legs.

"I hate wolves," he said. "I hate wolves. I hate wolves."

"Stop whinging," Gustav snapped, "blubbering enough to make a river."

Ellie shot him a look. "Hardly. Malai is part of us. We have to do something. She can't concentrate if we're bickering."

Vidar was prone to humming to himself. He liked to clutch his chest, his very heart and sing lullabies. At first, it had been annoying, but it had become rather soothing. He sat close-by, singing to himself and watching the wolves descend on the warriors. Ellie knew many Norse hymns and chants. Singing was a part of Asgardian life she didn't want to ignore.

"Vidar," she called. "Sing louder. Tell us the tales you tell yourself."

He curtly nodded, pushing his long braid back. His hair was long and interwoven with many runes; mostly carved by himself.

Ellie's watched him compose himself. His deep voice rang as he loudly sang the Krákumál. It was a hymn dedicated to the joy of life, glory of revenge and pleasures of Valhalla. Many songs followed the same themes, but all contained different stories. There were thousands of years of knowledge embedded in them. For the first time, Ellie found it comforting.

We swung our sword hard.
Soon we will drink ale
out of skulls:
a warrior moans not at death.

Lounn lifted his hands, looking out at the stadium. There was a deep-seated desire in his gaze. Ellie's ears picked up on humming coming from his throat. He sang alongside Vidar, closing his eyes to reminisce in the history of his people.

Home I invite dísir
which Odin sends me
Glad shall I drink ale as Aesir
in excellence I will drink
life's moments are passing
laughing shall I die.

Peace swept through Ellie. As a cloud in her chest, she felt compelled to share it with her friend. She touched a gentle hand to Lounn's shoulder. "Don't be afraid. You contain the strength of your ancestors."

Lounn looked at her with eyes swollen with passion. "As do you, Eurelia."

Her hand slipped from him. She pulled her gaze back to Malai, in troubled thought about Aelfred's words. Was there a chance her ancestors weren't human? He told her no, but he was a stubborn old man with little respect for anyone other than Lord Freyr. It was time to visit the Völva again and lick his hand…

Ellie shuddered.

She was soon ordered to the training platform, alongside several others including Lounn. Malai was being dragged away from two guards, dribbling blood over the floor. She must've been petrified of wolves as well. It seems like wolves were a common plague on the people of Asgard. Why?

Volstagg was overseeing the techniques in Ellie's section. He winked at her when she neared. She clamped her emotions in a vault, not giving away an ounce of humanness.

"Terrified little creatures, aren't you?" he bellowed, catching them off guard. "As with the journey you took in retrieving the champions, the Allfather has decided to push forth the narrative that monsters are everywhere."

A novice beside Ellie, held up a shaky hand. "Why a wolf?"

"Why not?" he said. "Not scared of the big, bad Fenrir, are you?"

"N-no, sir."

"Begin, then, little sprites," he boomed with a cackle. Shoving each of them with a wolf, Ellie was not grateful she ended up with the fiercest looking one of the bunch. It hunched beside its chain as a large, shaggy mass.

Ellie's hand shook as she gripped her sword. Despite the wolf's size, she was more disturbed by how cruel to tie up a creature and taunt it with violence. Then she remembered, it wasn't real. It was magic.

Still, she edged towards it and apologised profusely. "Gods, I'm sorry," she said.

Volstagg laughed. "It's not a real wolf, you fool!"

Yes, she was a fool. She was also a shadow, a dancing one which leapt sideways when the wolf darted at her. Its teeth gnashed loudly at her, making a horrible grinding sound. She swiped her sword, forcing it to edge back. It was difficult to retain a firm stance whilst inching forwards. Her back ached and her arms groaned in discontent.

The wolf growled, diving at her feet. Ellie jumped, falling onto her side. She gasped in shock and scrambled to her feet as the wolf came down upon her. Her sword was knocked from her and she was staring into the face of the wolf.

Vidar's words came to her as a calm lullaby. Soon we will drink ale out of skulls. How much ale would fit into a wolf's skull. Quite a bit, Ellie guessed. Although, it would pool out of the cracks in its cranium and out of its hollow eye sockets. The part she enjoyed the most was being able to drink as an Aesir. How marvellous it must be to inhale barrels of ale and saviour its delicate taste without becoming intoxicated. All it took was two pints and she was drunk. Maybe she would've fought Loki's warg better if she hadn't celebrated Thor's victory with the other warriors.

Saliva dripped from the wolf's teeth, oozing onto Ellie's collar. There was sand in its black fur and specks of gold. Thin white hairs speckled its face and the eyes. His eyes were luminous. Ellie was unsure as to why she knew it was a man, only that it was a man. For an instant, his eyes shone clear his black-furred face. They were intensely Aesir.

Fury coloured Ellie's vision red. Her insides burned with anger and shame as memories of her throwing a knife at Loki Odinson returned. How stupid could she have been? Why was he here? Exposing himself to the trainees like a gloating poltergeist, haunting her every move?

Out of the corner of her eye, her sword was cast aside. She wet her lips, debating whether she could do it. She then spat in Loki's face and backed up. The toe of her boot connected with Loki's muzzle and sent it backwards with a sharp bark. She had to have him begging for her to stop, that was the only way. Volstagg had to know this was the prince.

Turning over, Ellie reached for her sword.

Loki slammed a paw against her back, knocking the breath from her. Ellie felt hot breath on her neck, a guttered metal scented saliva. She twisted her arm back and wedge it between the teeth of Loki. Her left hand flushed to his throat. Asgardian metal was at her mercy, the material the only thing between Loki snapping Ellie's wrist in two. With a grunt, she pushed him and let a cry of surprise when Loki released her.

She wasted no time and grabbed her weapon. Throwing it wildly around, she attempted to catch Loki's face and scare it forever. How dare he come here and fight her.

Her sword swiped through mid-air, glinting madly against the sun. She leaned up on her elbows, looking for a wolf. There was none near her. Suddenly, her ears picked up a horrifying hiss. It slithered nearby and she scrambled onto her knees.

In front of her was a snake. It raised its head and hissed at her, showing off pointed fangs which sparkled and dripped with poison. Ellie froze, her braids falling onto her face and covering her vision.

"Come off it, Silvertongue," Volstagg scolded. "When the Allfather discovers you're fraternising…"

The snake transformed rather quickly. Loki's armour matched his wolf's black fur. Ellie sat, staring up at them both in shock.

"Fraternising?" he repeated with an unamused scoff. "If anyone is fraternising it's my oaf of a brother." He looked pointedly across the stadium where the renowned Lady Sif and Thor was parrying playfully with one another. The novice warriors caught on quite quickly around them.

Loki flicked his hand and the wolves dissipated into gold dust. Lounn, mid-lunge, landed in a disgruntled heap.

"My prince!" someone cried.

Another bellowed: "the sons of the Allfather!"

"And the Lady Sif! Valhalla is shining on us!"

Ellie got to her feet, watching the princes become overpowered by the enamoured warriors. They bathed in praise, lapsing up the attention like a couple of dogs.

"Were you battling Silvertongue?" Lounn grabbed her, his voice giddy. "Gods, you are so lucky!"

Naeva ran to them. "The princes are reporting back to Odin on our training. He's in search of a band of warriors for a journey of great importance!"

"What journey?" Ellie unravelled her gauntlets.

Her friend shrugged. "No idea. Ajun hasn't heard the rumour yet."

"Gods, he'll be an absolute menace. The clabbert," Lounn said. "At least you fought one of the Odinsons. How do you feel? Honoured?"

"Like I had my arse kicked," Ellie snapped, throwing her sword into a barrel of spares. She slumped onto a bench and looked across at Vidar who sat humming to himself. It was the same song: the Lay of Kraka. In his beautifully, elegant homage the world was perfect and honourable. In reality, Ellie's mouth was full of sand. It was gritty on the back of her throat.

She wiped her breastplate. Her fingers pulled away attached to a string of wolf saliva.

References

Krákumál or the Lay of Kraka – an skaldic poem which contains the Ragnar Lodbrok's dying monologue.