《The Lords of the Forest》 Chapter 1: Fate Found in Flames Ivarr ducked from the Celtic''s sword thrust in front of him, preparing to counterattack "He wasn''t very good" thought the Dane, "he shouted too much and spun in very wide arcs" The Irishman''s next blows were no more effective than the previous ones, always deflected or parried by the Danish captain''s shield, all in one game to keep pace and tire the crazed opponent. And that''s what happened, just after a few seconds of fighting, the Irishman was clearly tired, Ivar noticed this and went on the attack. Unlike his paltry opponent, he calculated what it takes to take down his opponent, no more, no less than necessary. His opportunity came in too wide a blow from his opponent, putting the oak shield between his elbow and forearm, Ivarr parried the clumsy blow, and in a split-second move, which only someone accustomed to sbaeria combat can do, brought down his sword between the joints, severing the Irishman''s forearm, who tensed, howling in pain. Without pausing, Ivarr landed another blow, this time a horizontal cut, taking advantage of the momentum the Irishman made as he tried to charge the Dane, in a vain attempt to try to change the inevitable. All this desperate maneuver did for him was to have his insides exposed, and the air taken from his lungs. Such exposure to pain finally caused the inconsequential Irishman to fall to the ground, to his knees, unable to choose between trying to stop the bleeding from his arm, or getting his bowels into his body. Ivarr, wanting to make sure of the kill, approached the enemy, still bleeding and stunned by the opponent''s savage performance. He faced the Irishman, and pointed his sword at his throat, somewhat covered by the Celt''s thick red beard. "Why?" was what the Irishman managed to mutter. Ivarr paused for a second, could have responded from a myriad of options. "Why didn''t you give me the information I wanted, or "why did you attack us while we were turning our backs" or even "why don''t you deserve so much gems if you''re going to waste your lives in combat against your superiors" But Ivarr did not say either of these options, he only approached the face of the defeated and fainting combatant, reached with his lips close to his ear, covered by red hair, and said: "Because I can." The look of disbelief and awe on the Irishman''s face was almost more satisfying as the moment Ivarr plunged his own blade into the Celt''s jugular, who exploded in bloody spasms, trying to fight for air but only drowning in your own blood. The Dane withdrew the sword from the slashed neck, letting gravity do the rest, bringing the body to the ground, his gaze still fixed on the horizon, but with an expression of dread etched across his face. "One more for Helheim", he thought victoriously. As he breathed from exertion, he sat down on a moss-covered boulder beside him and enjoyed the work of his marauders, for all around him, the village his adversary desperately wanted to protect burned in flames. Ivarr''s men killed men, raped women, and burned what they could not carry in their drakes, but that was life in Ireland and the rest of the British Isles, ever since the arrival of their countrymen. That was life, because they could do it, and they did it with gusto. He got up and quickly stripped the dead Irishman of his possessions, he looked like he had been a chief, at least according to the golden bracelets and decorations on his sword, which seconds before had nearly cut off the Viking''s head. "I''m sure you won''t need it anymore," he grinned with gusto as he took his spoils of victory. However, while the bracelets were easy to remove, the sword was considerably more difficult. The fist connected to the forearm, now severed from the ground, remained rigid, almost as if the dead warrior''s spirit still clung to its weapon. Ivarr tried and tried to open the deceased''s hand, until he lost patience and broke the fingers that separated him from what was his by right of combat. After delighting in his new treasure, especially the sword with its jeweled hilt, Ivarr turned to his men, who had finished looting and burning the village, killing all who tried to stop them. "Guthrum!", he shouted, "come here man!" His first mate quickly responded to his captain''s call, grudgingly putting aside the pursuit of a young woman. "Yes my captain, what do you need?" "I need you to gather the village elders, I have questions to ask." "Yes sir," Guthrum replied under his graying beard, "it will be done!" "And Guthrum," Ivarr shouted as his friend left". "Yes?" "Don''t get carried away, this is just one stop, our mission is another." "Yes, captain" The captain could hear the resentment in his voice, "well I didn''t care, I''m the captain, he simply needs to obey me" was what he thought, but it was a real pity leaving so many spoils behind, ¡°at least I got the decorated sword¡±. Such thought filled the Viking with pride as he admired the blade and hilt decorated with precious jewels. After a while, with the fight continuing all around, Guthrum gathered the elders, three in all. Apparently, those who did not die in the rampant attack were in tatters and deprived of any valuables. "Not that they needed it that much", thought Ivarr as he smiled to himself The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Captain!, Said Guthrum as he and a few other men arrived, "the elders are here." Ivarr ignored the first mate and went straight to the old men "Which one of you runs this shitty village?" Nobody answered "Silence may seem like a struggle, but it''s actually a death sentence" Ivarr unsheathed his newly won sword, pointing it at the old men in front of him. "I just won this beauty", he couldn''t avoid cracking a smile, "Who wants to be the first to test her?" "A stolen weapon carries resentment from the former owner", that came from a female voice, "You carry a cursed sword" Arising from among the elders was a lady, with braids in her long hair and tattoos on her face, and on her dress hung various bones and wooden paraphernalia with runes in Gaelic, clearly a shaman. Ivarr found who he was looking for. "I heard, witch, that you sighted a ship like ours, and that you gave them information." The old woman, not answering immediately, looked down and tried to pretend she didn''t hear. But Ivarr raised her chin with the sword, which glowed in the firelight that ran through the houses. "What did you tell him?" "I merely indicated where to find what he was looking for", the old woman finally took the courage to answer, "And that that would be his downfall." Unimpressed by the paltry attempt to frighten him, Ivarr pressed the blade to the woman''s neck. "What I want," he said, approaching the witch''s face, "Is it to know where you sent Ragnar and his men?" One of the old men tried to intervene but one of the guards hit him in the stomach before he could get to his feet. Which made Ivarr bring the sword to the intruder''s neck. "You answer, and we leave" He pressed the stolen blade on the poor old man, causing a trickle of blood to flow. "You don''t answer, and we kill everyone else until you speak" For a few seconds, but what felt like an eternity, there was a stony silence, with the old man held hostage and the witch not responding. It was a contest, a battle of wills over who would break first and give in. But Ivarr was not a patient man, and when he threatened to decapitate the old man, the witch relented. "All right," she cried out as Ivarr raised the blade. "I will speak!" "See?, It wasn''t so difficult". Ivarr returned the sword to the woman''s neck, now grinning devilishly "Now, Where. Did. You. Send. Ragnar?" "The man you call Ragnar, was looking for the secrets of the Gods, and that''s where I told him to go" "What gods, witch, stop speaking in riddles!" Ivarr was losing patience with this woman, witch or not. He didn''t want to know about gods or fairies, but facts. He lifted her off the ground with just one of his arms, her feet flailing in the air, trying to reach the ground. "I want to know where Ragnar is!" The old woman tried for air, but the Dane''s strong fist held her back. Guthrum placed a hand on his captain''s arm, indicating that he should ease his pulse. It took Ivarr a few seconds to notice his first mate, but when he did, he loosed the iron fist a little under the shaman''s throat. She found herself coughing, struggling for air, but after a few seconds she replied. "Follow the river, look for the star of the big bear, it will guide you to your destination, follow it to the stones of the ancients." Simple, and understandable, even the biggest fool in Scandinavia would know how to follow the stars as a guide. "Too easy" was what Ivarr thought But he had what he came looking for, and he had a mission to fulfill. He released the woman, who dropped to her knees, coughing, gasping for air. ¡°I''m a man of my word,¡± Ivarr told her. ¡°We''re leaving Guthrum!" The first officer quickly left to transmit the orders to the rest of the crew. Ivarr holstered his sword and turned to return to the ship. But he felt something tugging at his sleeve, turning around and realizing that the old woman was holding him. "I hope you find what you''re looking for, because I know this will be your downfall" "I am not afraid of your cheap tricks, witch!", shouted the Viking, in response, "The gods protect me!" The witch, still on her knees began to laugh, a sneer and ridicule. An almost uncontrollable laugh, but as quickly as it started, it just stopped. What was left were the old woman''s deep eyes, which seemed to penetrate deep into Ivarr''s soul. "You will find that YOUR gods have no power wherever you go, bandit." "There you will only find death, for the TRUE gods reign wherever you go, and they do not suffer invaders." With that, she went back to her uncontrollable crazy laughter. Ivarr wanted punch the witch, to teach her a lesson for trying to instill fear in him, wanted to cut off her head and put her in the bow of his Drakkar. He wanted¡­. But he didn''t, he just freed himself from the witch''s weak hands and walked away, heading towards the ship. In a hurried step, almost as if he knew something bad would happen to him if he stayed, wanting to get out of here before it did. "There you will find death Dane!", the old woman was shouting as he walked away, "And that sword will be the one that will bring it to you." Her laughter continued, even as Ivarr walked away, he continued to hear her, no matter how far away he was. He turned back only to see the old witch engulfed in flames, still laughing. Ivarr had never before thought about how safe he felt, how his ship gave him a sense of home, of protection. At least that''s what he thought as his drake followed the river, leaving the charred village behind. "Do we have orders, captain?" It was Guthrum who asked him, which brought Ivarr out of his own thoughts. "We follow Ursa Majoris, just like the old woman informed us, we will follow it until we reach some sacred place." "Pff, sacred", mocked the first mate, "I''ve heard this word many times, and all of them have proven vulnerable to fire and steel." Guthrum, cheerful as ever, especially after a good raid, began to laugh. A laugh that brought to Ivarr memories of the village witch. "Just do what I say!" The captain replied, without looking back. Guthrum stopped the banter, not responding, not commenting on the superiority of the Aesir over the Christian God or the Celtic gods, as he used to. Something in his captain''s voice made him just obey. ¡°Strange¡± was what went through Ivarr''s mind when King Thorgest had assigned him in Dublin the mission of finding his father. And it was the same thought that crossed his mind now, because something was bothering him, he was never afraid of anyone before: Be it the Celts, Saxons or even their countrymen. But something in the old woman''s voice had left him with a feeling he''d never felt, something that begged him, no, begged him to come back by the river and go away. He touched, almost by instinct, the pommel of the sword, the stolen sword, which he now carried in its scabbard. the cursed sword It was what the woman had called it, something cursed, that would seek revenge. "No, it''s just a madwoman''s bullshit trying to scare me" was what he thought, trying to push the feeling away, trying to forget the old woman and her crazy flame-covered laugh that still resonated in his mind. Ivarr just looked forward, resolute, for it would be clear, he thought, that the gods would protect him from whatever demons he was destined to face. And Ivarr Ragnarrsson, looked on at the horizon, from the opening river ahead, to the stars above which would guide him to his destination. Departing for his last voyage. Chapter II: Eyes in the Dark The days passed remarkably quickly, four days had passed since the attack on the river village, in a total of two weeks that made up Ivarr''s great mission, and his men were beginning to feel the burden this weather imposed on them. your shoulders. A grief that would surely lead to doubt, an evil worse than the sharpest sword in the hands of the most skilled swordsman. They traveled at night, always at night, in order to follow the constellation indicated by the witch. Every day the ship would dock at the nearest beach, camp would be built, and the men would rest from their relentless search ahead. One of these days, in the middle of the camp, Ivarr stared at the horizon, directly at the river in front of him, deep in thought. He thought about his strange mission, about his father but mostly about the sword. The witch''s words resonated in his mind "The true gods don''t like intruders" "But were not the Aesir the real gods?", thought Ivarr, Their superiority was clear in Midgard, with their followers being superior to the rest. This was clear, both in the conquests of England and the Ireland where he now found himself. But the witch''s words echoed in his mind, not because of their content, but because of the certainty with which the old woman had said it, a certainty that was only seen in fanatics, those who swore they had seen the impossible. "Captain", said a familiar voice beside him, "Are you alright?" It took a few moments before Ivarr turned and recognized his first mate, Guthrum, who carried a worried expression on his face. "Are you okay?", Guthrum asked again. "Yes, Guthrum, I''m fine," said Ivarr, in order to settle the matter. "What happened?" Guthrum took a couple of steps away, returning to his second-in-command posture in deference to his superior. "Olaf says he found something captain, something he says is very strange." "Strange, that was the word that best described this mission", thought Ivarr. "Show me the way", said the captain. An order that the first officer immediately followed, leaving the conversation aside, moving straight through the camp. And Ivarr followed, always close to the loyal mate, who kept up a hurried pace. The camp was relatively vast, covering the small beach and going into the coast, covered by dense forest. Fifty men made up Ivarr''s crew, all veterans and competent warriors, whose bravery had already been proven, time and time again in Ivarr''s presence. They all greeted him as his captain passed them, a gesture of respect that Ivarr made back, a respect deserved after years of fighting side by side. And they fought everything from other Scandinavians, English Saxons, Welsh Britons, Scottish Picts and Irish Celts. Ivarr trusted these men with his life, and the reverse was also true. After passing through his men, he continued to follow his first mate, who strangely passed through the camp, straight into the dense forest that circled the river''s shore. They went on for a few more seconds, the tree branches almost tangled up in Ivarr''s braided mohawk, all the while Guthrum, always conversational Guthrum, remained silent. They covered a few more yards, until they found two men squatting down, examining something in the undergrowth. "Olaf, Wiglaf!", Guthrum shouted, greeting the pair, "show the captain what you showed me." Olaf, hearing his superior''s voice, rose to greet him, putting his right fist to his chest. Olaf was a big man, taller even than Ivarr, and older too, having already lived forty winters, which showed in the white streaks of his beard. His mighty battle axe was leaning against a nearby tree, and its owner looked worried. By contrast his cousin was considerably smaller, a young man with only 20 winters on his face, but he was the best tracker Ivarr had ever heard of, and although he disagreed with the young man''s "cowardly" methods, he had no doubt that his bow always had its use, and his loyalty was unquestionable. "Captain!" they both cried out in unison. "I thought you would like to see this", continued the veteran." Olaf pointed to the ground he was just examining, and like Olaf, Ivarr and Guthrum bent down to take a closer look at what the old warrior was so interested in. "My cousin Wiglaf was the one who found this captain", the veteran old warrior explained, "he went to check for more and I went to call you" It was a trail, barely perceptible to the eye, but with the help of the experienced hunter that was Wiglaf, it was clear as day. Which was strange, since all the expeditions Thorghest had sent to investigate places that could be conquered reported that there were no residents in this region. Strange, thought the Danish captain It seemed to be common ground, the green leaves of summer, strewn across the fertile land, full of plants As insects scurried their paws, oblivious to the Nordic giants watching them. However, after a few seconds it became clear what was wrong, a small, unnatural piece of wood lay on the ground, hidden among the living leaves that covered the earth. Ivarr lifted the small piece of wood, which was tied by a rope made of vines, close to his face so that he could see it better. When it was closer, he noticed that it was not just a piece of wood, but that there were several pieces, all handmade, demonstrating the same shape. They were probably made of tree bark, to deducing from the smell, and in their center was the same strange symbol. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. There were three circles, forming a triangular shape, and behind them was a ring. It was a strange symbol, Guthrum didn''t seem to understand what it meant, but Ivarr had a good idea. He had seen similar things with his clan seer, the one who communicated with the gods, and Ivarr knew the name of this object. "It is a talisman", declared the captain, never taking his eyes off the collar, "a druidic talisman" "A talisman?, Guthrum asked, confused. "It can''t be a talisman, I would know one if I saw it." "Apparently not" joked Olaf, who was watching everything. Before his first mate hacked Olaf with his handaxe, Ivarr stopped him by putting his hand between them, signaling them to stop. "This one is different", Ivarr continued to explain, "it`s a druidic talisman" "Druidic?" the three officers asked in unison. Olaf instinctively placed his left hand on his pendant, dedicated to Ullr, the hunter god, almost as if seeking comfort. Guthrum just remained incredulous at the recent revelation. "I thought the Druids had all died, after that guy Patrick came here". "Apparently not all, Guthrum" confirmed Olaf . "That''s what it looks like," Ivarr said as he stared intently at the talisman. "That means we have a problem" Wiglaf stepped forward, forgoing silence, looking worried. The three older warriors turned to face him, curious as to how he had come to this conclusion. "A talisman is used when someone seeks protection", the young hunter explained. "That means..., Ivarr began to understand. "That we are being followed" Guthrum concluded. Olaf didn''t answer, resigning himself to affirming, with his silence, the fear of the officers. Picking up his mighty battle axe and holding it, almost as if it were the most precious item around him. Guthrum imitated him, only more discretely, tapping the pommel of his handaxes, as if he were looking for them to make sure they were there. And they both stared at the forest, as if expecting an ambush, or worse, to jump out of the trees. The only one who remained calm was young Wiglaf, probably due to some sense of invincibility that youth gives to younger ones. Ivarr, tired of this cowardly disposition, decided to put a stop to it. "Calm down, you two!", he screamed, so loud that the birds took flight, scared, "It''s just wood with symbols" "It''s probably just forest settlers, who use myths to keep snoops away," he continued. And he put the necklace in his pocket, as if to end the argument. Both officers looked at their captain, both with a mixture of disbelief and a hint of fear, while Wiglaf was impassive, whether he wanted to show courage or mask fear, Ivarr could not tell. Ivarr motioned to the camp. "Go back," he ordered, returning to his more rational self. "And no word of what we found, do you understand?" "But Captain, protested Guthrum, "this is no longer about false gods in the forest." "This is witchcraft", he continued, "It''s black magic, we need to go back and find a Volur, someone who knows about this subject, we need¡­." Ivarr raised his hand, in a universal ¡°stop¡± symbol, which made his mate, however fair he was at his suggestion, stop and listen. "We''ve come too far to go back, do what I say and that''s it." The three officers took a few seconds to respond, Guthrum opened his lips to protest further, to try to convince his captain of the bad choice he was making, but Olaf held his shoulder, preventing him from speaking. "It will be done, my captain." That''s all that Olaf said, who proceeded to to return to camp, as ordered. Guthrum, seeing where the wind was blowing in this situation, must have found it more advantageous to raise the subject again when he had a better chance. So he did as the veteran and withdrew, with a nod of the head, out of respect for his captain. Ivarr watched him go, knowing the matter was not over, for as loyal as Guthrum was, he had always been more superstitious than the rest. "You know he''s right, don''t you?" Deep in his thoughts, Ivarr did not realize that Wiglaf had approached, and was taken aback by the tracker''s words. He didn''t wait for an answer, just continued on his way, following his captain''s orders. But Ivarr had an idea, which began by taking the hunter''s arm, holding him there for a few more moments. "For you I have other orders", declared Ivarr in his commanding voice, "I want you to keep an eye on any people in this forest." "What if I find these people?" "Follow them, and let me know who or what you saw, just for me, understood?" Wiglaf, now freed from his captain''s strong arm, broke into a small smile, no doubt eager to demonstrate his skills again. And he nodded, as if he understood and it would be done. Ivarr dismissed him, letting him return to camp, along with his cousin. Meanwhile, the Dane remained a few moments longer in the scene, took the talisman from his pocket and began to look at it thoughtfully. "It might be nothing, just some freaks who cling to the past" "Or it could be magic, of the dangerous kind" He had been taught some things about Seidr magic by his mother, who had been a Volur, a Scandinavian witch. And he knew how dangerous that could be, for magic comes from the gods, it''s a small trace of their power that humanity could have access to, and how destructive it was. And, of all places to find this piece of magic, right here. Strange. His ramblings were interrupted by a sudden noise from the woods, Ivarr turned on his heel with the grace of a swordsman, and with the same speed, drew his sword, his new sword. The cursed sword Its golden details gleamed with the rays of sunlight that penetrated the forest, through the gaps between the trees. Her jewels reflected the light that hit them, sending it back to the world, almost blinding Ivarr. Something so beautiful, and so equally lethal. Ivarr waited for whatever made this noise to make the first move, ready to counterattack in the time of a gasp. But nothing happened, a few more seconds, and nothing. Ivarr realized that nothing would come for him, at least for the moment, and decided to fight this fight another time, sheathing his sword and returning to the camp. And at every moment, throughout the journey back, Ivarr could feel eyes following him, as if they were escorting him out of their home. Picking up his pace, as he had with the witch, Ivarr arrived at the camp, being greeted by his crew, and remembering to keep his tone sober, greeting them back. But even in the perceived safety of his men, his Drakkar and his sword, the eyes that still followed him kept focused on the newest intruder in the realm of the gods.. Chapter III: Ancient, but not dead The starry night sky above held as usual, with the Vikings always following the constellation Ursa Major that guided them, where to, Ivarr did not know. A mysterious guide to an unknown destination, but one that the young captain was not afraid to pursue. The stars continuing their vigil before Midgard. But he wouldn''t stay that way for long, and Ivarr wanted to cover more distance this time, especially since he didn''t want to have to face the shapes of the forest without first having some idea who he was dealing with. "Captain," shouted Guthrum, who was wielding the wheel. "Which way do we go?" Ivarr turned his head at the sound of his first mate, and turned to face his decision. There was a fork ahead, and the ship continued to accelerate, faster and faster with the current, which grew with a strength Ivarr had never seen. So strong was the current that the Vikings no longer needed the oars, just letting the river guide them forward. Looking up, he searched for the constellation that guided them, which was increasingly difficult to do with the approaching dawn. It took a few moments for Ivarr to find her, almost surrendering to momentary despair, but there it was, a guide for travelers looking for their destination. The fork ahead split into two paths, one to the left and one to the right. And the current continued to strengthen, pushing them forward with ever greater vigor. Ivarr glanced quickly at the fork, then at the starry sky, which was increasingly consumed by the dawn, and made a decision. "We''re going to the right!" Shouted the captain to his subordinates, who promptly began to organize so as to change course. "Yes captain!" the crew shouted in unison, with the loudest responses being those of Olaf and Guthrum, who guided the wheel. The rest of the crew stopped clinging and began to use the oars, coordinated by the drums, manned by Olaf, which kept at a fast pace, being repeated by the oarsmen. It was a team effort that demonstrated the trust these men had with each other. "Wait for my command!", ordered Ivarr, who remained in the bow, waiting for the best moment. Indeed, timing was of paramount importance to the maneuver Ivarr had calculated in his mind, a maneuver that would not only shift them to the new course but also ensure their safety from the current. ¡°Another 500 meters,¡± the captain calculated in his mind, his gaze always straight ahead and focused on the maneuver. "400 meters" "300 meters" It was in that moment he saw them, out of the corner of his left eye, that Ivarr noticed a series of movement in the tree line. Which made the captain look away, before focused on the maneuver he would make, now surprised by the appearance of his mysterious hosts. "They are back" The figures that were now being seen began to appear after him and his men discovered that they were being followed. They always kept to the coast, inside the forest, almost as if they were part of it. But never before had they manifested near dawn, they always stayed at night, using the shadows to hide from the world, and from invaders. But this time they were careless, or so it seemed, they let the rays of the rising sun uncover them from their cloak of shadows. And for a second one of the faces exchanged glances with the captain. His eyes seemed to penetrate Ivarr''s very soul, like the village witch, but not with anger, as the old woman had, but with something else, which Ivarr did not immediately understand. The brief contact caused the captain to be distracted from his task as his ship moved through the strong currents of the river, now without a captain to guide her in the manoeuvre. For a few moments, which seemed like an eternity, to Ivarr there was only the forest, and the eyes that lived there. "Captain!" He heard a voice in his ear "Captain wake up!" The voice sounded familiar, but Ivarr didn''t immediately recognize it, it was as if it were a distant noise, inconsequential to the here and now. "Ivarr!" the voice now repeated, this time screaming his name "Ivarr!" This time Ivarr felt something touch his shoulder, which snapped him out of his trance. He looked around to find the familiar face of Wiglaf the Hunter, staring at him with concern. He was shaking his captain in an attempt to wake him from his sudden reverie. "We need orders captain!", shouted the young Viking, pointing forward, directing Ivarr back to his previous task. Ivarr stared straight ahead, trying to take his eyes off the forest in his mind, trying to focus on what should be done so the ship doesn''t run aground. With his return to command of the ship, and back to reality, Ivarr sensed the danger. The ship had gone much further than his calculations, especially after his brief reverie. Which meant he had to do the necessary maneuver tightly, with less time for the executions of the ship movements. And worse, the current only increased its intensity, as if the island itself did not want them there. But he had an idea. "Wiglaf, tell the left side to play the anchor!" "Captain?", the young man''s voice of disbelief was remarkable, "Are you sure what you say?" "Just as Odin knows about Ragnarok, now I do as I have ordered!" This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The rising tone of voice made the young man''s training take over, rather than his recent doubt, due to his commander''s recent lapse. And he left to carry out his order. "Guthrum!", shouted the captain, this time to his first mate, "Turn the wheel to starboard!" "Yes captain!" This simple answer was all Ivarr needed to save his crew, and it was a goal in which he intended to succeed. The left side of the ship, commanded by Olaf, stopped rowing and began using the oars as a brake for the ship, a risky but necessary maneuver. Meanwhile, Guthrum turned the wheel the other way. With the speed at which they were, and at the short distance at which the bifurcation was, it would be impossible to make a turn, at least not without crashing on the shore. Therefore, he would use the ship as a brake, while turning to his chosen side, in a single maneuver. The left-hand oarsmen, using their oars as brakes, held them in place, letting the current break into their sailor implements. With that, and with the rudder being turned to the opposite side, the Drakkar began to turn to starboard, with the hull being completely horizontal. "Hold on!", shouted Ivarr to his crew, as a wave of water invaded the deck, wetting his entire body. "And be ready to untap!" Ivarr held on to the bow, using all his strength, until his fingers began to turn white, so as not to be thrown overboard. With the force of the river, and after slowing down, the Drakkar began to follow the course of the current, starting to turn left. But Ivarr had already taken that into account. "All rowing! Guthrum, turn the helm to port!" His orders were clear and simple, but both were of vital importance so that they could get safely to the side they wanted to go, not a likely waterfall. With the efforts of his men, the ship began to overturn, and get into the original position for which it had been made. A wave of the river lifted them at the same time they broke their improvised position, causing the Vikings to rise from their seats, losing their balance a little. Wiglaf, however, was thrown from his oar, leaving an empty position, which Ivarr quickly filled, keeping pace. The raging river made Ivarr''s knuckles ache, whitening it with so much force it took to keep the ship on course, but he did. Ivarr had to crane his neck to the left so he could see where he was going, so he could give instructions to his crew. The ship, now untapped and in its normal position, was facing the fork. Ivarr was sure that if they failed in their next step, the ship would run aground on land in the middle, being broken as hard as it went. Or sent to the wrong side and face to face with the unknown who was sure to be waiting for them on the other side. "Hold on!", he shouted at the top of his lungs, while paddling, "For Thor, don''t hesitate!" "For Thor!", they responded in unison. "To Valhalla!", shouted Ivarr again. "To Valhalla!", answered his men. With spirits high, the crew began rowing and rowing, aiming to turn the ship to go the way they wanted, not what the current wanted. It took a few seconds of fighting the river, the hardest fight Ivarr had ever fought, not even all the duels and battles he had participated in were so difficult. But with the united effort of everyone, the ship turned and crossed the fork. And not a moment too soon, as the sun''s rays had already begun to cover its starry, and the constellation Ursa Major was gradually replaced by the great Sun, which took its rightful place in the sky. Ivarr breathed a sigh of relief, letting his muscles relax a little, though he knew they would be quite sore in a few hours. But he showed neither relief nor pain, just letting Wiglaf, no doubt ashamed of having failed in his rowing duties, take his place again. As he rose, and went back once more to the bow, Ivarr''s eyes were drawn to the forest, looking for the figures, looking for the eyes in the shadows. But neither was there, now only the trees and plants stared back at him, and nothing else. Strange That word again hovered over his mind, like an insect that insisted on staying, and no matter how much you shooed him, only to return moments later. Ivarr pushed the thought out of his mind once more, trying to force himself somewhere to land and rest. They would have a long day ahead of them, and surely the figures would be watching them, hidden among the emerald foliage. The ship continued for another hour, straight ahead, until they found a place to dock. The place was small so you couldn''t put the entire ship inside, just the front, but Ivarr ordered them to tie the bow to the nearest trees, thus enabling a quick escape if necessary. He helped in the process himself, not because he didn''t think his men were capable, but to try to forget. forget the eyes Those eyes that penetrated into his soul, and that still did when he wasn''t there. But throughout the process, it was as if he still felt eyes on him, hostile gazes on him, gazes he couldn''t seem to shake, even though every time he looked around, nothing was there. Even so, the camp had been set up, though they had to go into the forest a little to be able to accommodate all fifty crew members. The sun was rising, and the rays of light that penetrated through the trees made it seem that the forest itself did not allow the great sun to enter without invitation, only small samples of itself could enter this forest of ill omens. Even so Ivarr stilled his mind, his men needed him lucid and watchful, not distracted, it could kill them all if it happened at the wrong time, as it almost did in the river. Ivarr went to the riverbank with the purpose of thinking, thinking about his mission, thinking about how he would get out of here, and thinking about what awaited them, especially the eyes. Those eyes that still remained in her mind, fixed like a nightmare that insisted on being forgotten. Thoughts of him were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Ivarr turned to face the switch, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword. the cursed sword But there he found no enemy, only young Wiglaf, who looked apprehensive about something, though Ivarr already had an idea of ??what was bothering him. "Captain, I came to ask your forgiveness for earlier." ¡°Why do you believe it is needed ?¡± Ivarr replied. ¡°We all make mistakes, just give Thor thanks that nothing happened. "But that''s exactly it," replied Wiglaf, exacerbating himself, which made him immediately recoil, as if embarrassed. "What if there was no one to hold the oar in case I failed?" "But there was, it doesn''t matter with the ¡°almosts¡± and the ¡°what ifs¡±, the gods decided and so it was done, it is a lesson that the sooner you learn the better. "I know my captain", replied the young man "But it wasn''t just that, I¡­" "Say it boy!" This time it was Ivarr who exaggerated, raising his voice a little more than he would have liked, causing a few glances, including ones Ivarr recognized, such as Guthrum and Olaf, to be drawn into the discussion, which the captain did not miss. Composing himself, Ivarr put his right hand on the young crewman''s shoulder, motioning for him to follow, leading him to a far corner. "Tell me what happened then." "I saw something, captain", replied the boy, still a little hesitant and speaking to the inside, looking around, as if someone was still listening to them. Looking down, still embarrassed. "I saw something in the forest, sir." As he said these words, Wiglaf looked up, staring at his captain, just as his eyes had stared at him for a second, an intense and uncomfortable second. Did he see it too? That was the thought that permeated Ivarr''s mind now, a thought that hid a fear that might not have been his imagination after all. That there was someone in the forest was indisputable, there was plenty of proof of that, but he had no idea what those people might be. Instinctively, his hand went to his right pocket, which still held the Celtic talisman he had found. "I saw someone in the forest, sir", the young man continued to explain, "And this thing looked at me in a way that, as if..." "Could look into your soul." Ivarr finished the sentence. "Yes, exactly like that, did you see them as well?" "Exactly, and I tell you, they are nothing more than men, who bleed and die, do you understand me?" "Yes sir!" "Now, continue with the orders I gave you, follow them and report back to mw me with what you saw." Wiglaf made the gesture of deference, his right fist over his breast, but the words escaped him, as if he didn''t have the courage to agree to go after whatever it was that was following them. Ivarr couldn''t blame him, but neither could he release him from his orders. So he took from his neck a necklace with Mjolnir, the hammer and symbol of Thor, which he always carried with him. "Use this", said the captain handing the precious necklace to the young man. "So that Thor will know that you have his protection." Wiglaf stared for a few seconds at the necklace his own captain had given him, as if it were made of pure gold and decorated with the most precious jewels. And then he wrapped it around his neck, lifting his head, determined not to let his superior and his peers down any longer. "!Yes Captain, it will be done." And with that, he went out into the forest, looking for his prey, disappearing among the leaves after a few seconds of walking. Ivarr greeted him on his way out, still looking at the spot where the hunter had disappeared, as if he expected him to come running back. But he turned away, heading back to the camp, and his other crew made as if nothing had happened, but everyone knew something was wrong. Ivarr did not linger with such questions, just headed for the riverbank, intent on thinking, as he always did. But this time the thoughts were not of home, or of his past or future victories, but of Wiglaf''s eyes and most of all. For that startled look could only say one thing: Whatever it was Ivarr had faced, it was real and not at all human. For how could he remember eyes so inhuman, even from a distance of thirty meters, but he had them burned into his memory, and those eyes would haunt him. For those eyes not only conveyed hatred, as did the village witch, but also contempt, a contempt that only came from a place of natural superiority, as if Ivarr and his men were a colony of ants about to be crushed by a boot . But what was most frightening was that the eyes weren''t human, they were fire-red eyes, and of different shapes. But the irises were circles that formed a rough shape for the talisman''s symbol. But for a second he swore it wasn''t what he saw, Ivarr could swear he saw his wife Hild''s eyes. Which was impossible since his wife had been dead for two years. "What''s going on here?" and "what are these things?" it was the thoughts that covered his mind, preventing him from thinking about anything else. Ivarr removed the talisman from his pocket, looking at its symbol. A triquetra was what his mother called this symbol. A sacred symbol for the ancient inhabitants of this island, before the Vikings, before the Christians. But it looked like they might be ancient, but not dead. Chapter IV: Land of the Gods "Winter should arrive in a few weeks." That''s what Ivarr Ragnarrson thought as he slung his game around his shoulders, tying his paws so it wouldn''t slip. The grass was dry and the leaves on the trees were beginning to fall, all lit up by the full moon that covered the valley with its light, while the Aurora Borealis danced around them. The cool breeze lifted the hairs on Ivarr''s face as he carried the deer back to his city. This would be tonight''s dinner, which was sure to be even better with Hild''s kitchen. Thoughts of home came, though they were not necessary, for as he walked he had already entered the main street, greeting and being greeted by its residents, whom he knew very well. -One more Mr. Ivarr, that way there won''t be many more left for us. - Saluted Sithric, the cheerful blacksmith, while letting out his famous laugh. -I only use my skills, you are the ones who have to accompany me! ¨C replied the young captain, in the same cheerful and jocular tone. After passing the merry Sithric''s forge, Ivarr continued to walk with his prey on his shoulders, passing the other inhabitants. He saluted his good friend Guthrum, who was fixing the roof of his house while his wife was stripping the bones of fresh fish. He saw Olaf chopping wood, each piece of log splitting apart with each stroke of his axe, while his cousin Wiglaf made new arrows that were sure to be deftly used. But what mattered most was the house at the end of the street, a modest house that was worth more to Ivarr than any castle he would be able to capture, and waiting within it was the real treasure of his life: His wife Hild. And there she was, probably listening to the greetings and laughter he''d made, or simply always knowing when he''d come home, opened the door, and stood to wait. Her black hair caught the firelight, and her emerald silk dress, which Ivarr had brought from Frankia, was covered in a white apron. The open door allowed the fireplace to light up the muddy, grass-dry street, and Hild cast a shadow over Ivarr, who grinned in genuine happiness at the sight of his life''s wife. -Did you get a big one this time? - Asked Hild, approaching her husband, with a smile on her face - Or just got another skinny one? -You hurt me dear- Ivarr replied, putting the deer on the ground for a second - My hunting skills would make even Ullr jealous! -In that case, O glorious hunter, why don''t you enter and receive your great reward? -The reward I want is right here. With her she pulled him by the collar, bringing Ivarr into her loving kiss, a moment of passion that Ivarr never wanted to end, even though he knew that whenever he wanted he could return. They held each other for a few seconds, until Hild released him, and when Ivarr tried to continue, he was slapped on the hand. -I still have to prepare the meat, you glutton - she repressed, pointing to the deer on the ground. ¨C But if you behave there will be a great reward, O great hero. "I can''t wait," he chuckled with gusto. Ivarr helped his wife carry the deer to the door, lifting it from the muddy floor, and carrying it to the table, where it would be prepared. -I hope you don''t mind, but Rolf came to have dinner with us. -Rolf is here, where? As if on call, Rolf, Ivarr''s brother, appeared in the doorway, already holding a mug of mead in his left hand and another in his right. His golden hair highlighted his youthful appearance, which was only brightened by his ear-to-ear smile that opened when he saw his older brother. And quickly offered the other mug, which still had a little foam from the mead. Ivarr accepted, taking a nice sip of his drink, as the hunt had dried up his throat. -What are you doing here brother? -I knew someone would bring food - Rolf replied - And you never say no to free food, especially when it''s prepared by the best cook in town. Hild flushed at the compliment, trying to deflect to the task of preparing the food. Meanwhile, the two brothers exchanged stories, travel stories; of looting; hunting and trading. They laughed as they told of their adventures, they laughed with all the gusto of living. And when the food was ready, everyone went to the table, sitting down to eat, and Ivarr couldn''t be happier. He had the most beautiful woman in the world and his brother always brought the most varied stories from the world, bringing joy and music with his instrument. On the table was the deer, and more mead, with the three of them sitting, eating and having fun, all happy to be there. After supper Rolf took out his harp and began to sing a song he had learned in Spain from the Moors, Hild loved it, she always liked music. But then Ivarr heard a noise, a sound of metal hitting metal, and he turned to see what it was. But when he turned around he was no longer sitting in his house, he was on the street, instead of a deer on his back, he had a bottle in his hand. The street was empty, with no one to greet him. Meanwhile, the Aurora Borealis was in the sky, but it was red, an ominous color that never happened. Her house was opposite, the fireplace was on and lighting up the humble home. But something was wrong, her door now had the triquetra he had found in the talisman and seen in the eyes of the figures. And inside, there were noises, and Ivarr knew what those noises meant, but he didn''t want to remember. Yet his feet, against his will, were leading him to the door, his free hand moving to the lock, ready to open the door. -No, please - Ivarr begged - I don''t want to see it! Yet his body wouldn''t obey, as if he was being controlled by someone else, someone who wanted to make him suffer. He''d been there before, and he knew what was coming next and he didn''t want to see it. The symbol on his door began to glow, an intense crimson red, and he watched it, like an all-seeing eye, and judged him. He heard a scream, he didn''t know if it was his or someone else''s, but a scream sounded in the dark of the night. Ivarr closed his eyes and he began to scream himself. And he woke up screaming, sweaty and getting up on the makeshift mattress, sweating and confused, Guthrum was holding him, his worried gaze fixed the captain intensely. Ivarr controlled himself and calmed himself, turning his head to reintroduce where he was in his mind. He was no longer in his hometown, he was back in Ireland, and its strange forest. -Are you okay? - Someone said, maybe Guthrum the loyal mate, or maybe Olaf, Ivarr didn''t know yet. His screams must have woken the rest of the crew, for they were looking at him with the same concern Guthrum showed. Ivarr, now calm, looked around him, his men, still half awake and half asleep, were staring at him, as if waiting for an answer. Ivarr looked around him, the forest where they slept was thicker than in the previous kilometers, when there were several spaces where the sunlight penetrated, illuminating the vegetation, now these small holes were getting more and more scarce, and the light that entered was getting smaller and smaller. In this tight environment, Ivarr looked at his men, and then at his worried first mate, stood up, freeing himself from Guthrum, who tried to hold him, and simply started walking. Heading towards the river to wash up as he was covered in sweat, but also to calm down and process what he saw and how he would explain it to his crew. The sun was already setting, turning orange, and soon it would be time to set sail in search of the place the witch had told them to look for. He knelt on the edge of the river, looking at his reflection, his face was tense and the image was warped by the Dane''s hands, which buried themselves in the liquid mirror. Bringing the water to his face, Ivarr splashed it on his face, cooling off a little and washing away the sweat. The cold water gave him a few chills, due to the shock of temperatures, which soon passed as he repeated the movement. "What''s happening to me?" The captain thought as he once again bathed in the icy waters, while the sun reflected its light on the river. -The same dream again? ¨C asked a familiar voice behind Ivarr, who turned to find Guthrum also kneeling, but he was beside the captain, who had not heard him arrive. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Ivarr didn''t answer directly, just nodding his head and saying "yes". Guthrum did the same, understanding the answer but not responding. As there was no further dialogue, Ivarr returned to his task, lost in thought. -At some point you''ll have to explain what the problem is, boss - Guthrum said, looking at the river beside his captain. -We both know you already know what this is about - replied Ivarr, turning his soaked face to face his old friend, who returned the gesture. -Not to me, boss, to the others. -You, more than anyone, know that I can''t -Then find a way to deal with whatever is happening to you. Guthrum settled himself on the edge of the river, leaving a silence between the two men that neither of them wanted to fill, just letting the sounds of water, plants and wind fill the atmosphere. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Guthrum just gazing at the increasingly thick and dark forest, and Ivarr continuing to wash himself in the clear water of the river. -You have problems too ¨C Ivarr finally got up the courage to end the silence, turning to his friend ¨C Only you disguise it better. -What gave me away? ¨C replied the mate, widening his eyes with surprise. -Your dark circles, you''ve been waking up too early, I assume they''re nightmares too. "And I thought I was hiding it so well." He chuckled, a taste of his good old laugh that had often served as a beacon in the darkest times the crew had ever faced. Ivarr also gave a small laugh, which helped a little, as if a great weight, though not lifted, had been lifted from his shoulders. And then they were silent again, both of them watching the river and the dark green line in front of them, while the rest of the crew began to wake up and move on to other tasks. -Wouldn''t it be better if we went back? - Once again the mate broke the silence. -I have to close this matter Guthrum. -Why, just because Thorgest sent it? -By me! He turned to face his friend, who looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and understanding, perhaps pity. -Well, then let''s walk, the sun will set - He nodded and stood up, cleaning his hands and pants, and already turning back to the camp. -What was it about? ¨C Ivarr asked before his friend returned. -Which? -Do you know what mine was, what yours was about? Guthrum took a few seconds to answer, maybe he was wondering if he should answer. But without turning around, he replied grimly. - About my first ritual. -And what did you remember? -From the faces of everyone there - Guthrum still didn''t turn to his captain, Ivarr didn''t know if it was out of shame or discomfort - Of all the ones I killed. -For you it may be a personal search captain - He continued, now turning half of his body to face his commander - But you are not the only one with secrets and sins. And this forest knows of them, for there is witchcraft here. With that he turned and went back to the rest of the crew who were already getting ready to break camp and continue their journey. The setting sun reflected off the water, growing stronger as it receded from Midgar, all in a cycle that it did along with the moon to escape Skol and Hati, the sons of Fenrir. But in this forest Ivarr would have to face the figures, something he had no interest in doing, especially now that he was sure they knew his secrets. They knew what could have been, and what was. But it was something that was bound to happen, because probably the figures were responsible for his father''s disappearance, and to rescue him he would have to go through them. So he returned to the camp, to his place, and armed himself. He shouted the usual orders, and boarded the ship when it was ready, crew in place and the moon in the sky. As his ship drifted under the starry sky, Ivarr could only look ahead and up. The first to see where he was going, and the second to make sure it was the right way, no more contact with the cursed inhabitants of this forest. Just total concentration on the way forward, for the further Ivarr went into this strange forest, the less he wanted to stay there. The path was clear this time, but not very pleasant. The trees, once an emerald green, were now a dark green almost gray, and there were fewer and fewer fish in the water, and of the animals in the forest there was no sign. This scenario was getting weirder and weirder, but Ivarr had gone too far to be scared, they were almost there, he could feel it in his bones. And not only that, he had a strange feeling now. Looking up, he noticed that the constellation, which had kept itself in the starry sky, was now getting more and more aligned, like an ¡°X¡± marked on the map. -We are almost there! ¨C He shouted to his crew ¨C Just a few more miles! He couldn''t say why he was so sure, just a feeling, a feeling that nagged at him, telling him he was getting close, near the end. And it was then that he saw the figures again. Not entirely, maybe because they didn''t want to expose themselves again, or maybe for some other indecipherable reason. But they were there, moving, accompanying the ship on its journey across the river. Above, the constellation continued to line up with the sky above Ivarr. -Faster! ¨C The captain shouted to his crew, without taking his eyes off his objective ¨C Just a little longer! They won''t stop me, not now that I''m so close! Ivarr thought, he knew he had to get to his goal, holy place or not. His mission, His Father awaited him, and nothing, not even Surtr and all his fire giants would be able to stop him. You will not disappear again father! I let you go once, never again! Looking up again, Ursa Major was now almost in line with the ship, as if it were an "X" on a star map, pointing to the treasure at the end of the journey. -Prepare the anchor! - He ordered His men heard the order and immediately began to slow down, those closest to the bow taking the anchor, a heavy stone attached to a thick rope. Simple, yes, but efficient, just the way Ivarr liked it. Checking the tree line, Ivarr wanted to see if the figures were still following them, and that''s what he found, but fewer and fewer than before. Turning back to the horizon, Ivarr focused on his objective, nothing on this earth would stop him from reaching it, whether men or demons of Hel. The stars that guided him were now almost on top of him, in a perfect conjunction that almost looked like a well-aimed arrow pointing to the young captain''s fate. -On my signal! All the crew prepared to anchor, as they had done hundreds of times when they sacked and pillaged the coasts of the British Isles. All in one simple motion that had been drilled into the nerves, muscles, and thoughts of Ivarr''s crew with practice. Looking up again, Ivarr saw that they were almost there, just a few more yards away, but what startled him was what he found in front of him: Huge stone pillars and menhirs jutted out from above the tree line, as if the head of a a gigantic primordial beast. Ivarr arrived once more above her head, and the constellation was almost in line, they were almost there. I arrived Father! thought the captain as he ordered his men to prepare to disembark. Looking around, the tree line was only green and plants, with no sign of the strange shapes. For the moment at least, they were alone. The anchoring took place simply and uneventfully, as usual, even too easy. Around him, his men disembarked, soon after they had tied the ship to the nearby trees. Everyone getting ready for the last part of the expedition. Guthrum directed the men to move, while Wiglaf prepared to go on a mission. Meanwhile, the night sky glowed with moonlight, illuminating the Danes who dared to enter the heart of the forest. Ivarr walked, confident in his mission, on the verge of finally knowing why. Because he left, what was more important than him and his mother? But there was something strange about this night, the constellation that would so guide them on this journey into the deep heart of Ireland, now hovered over their heads. Ivarr and his men couldn''t help but be intrigued by her, as the Aurora Borealis of her home glowed overhead, marking the beginning of the end of her journey. The strangest thing was that she seemed to be spinning, like a creature watching its prey, for a second Ivarr saw a familiar face in the stars, Hild. The captain closed his eyes, shaking his head, as if trying to get these thoughts out of his head. ¡°It was all in his head,¡± was what he thought, but some deeper part of his soul still cast that comforting certainty into doubt. He opened his eyes again, this time greeted by the constellation, but weaker, now challenged by the rays of dawn. Gathering courage, and snapping out of his trance, Ivarr ordered them to begin packing camp. After setting up camp, the sun already dared to show itself. The group decided to wait a few more hours, drinking coffee and getting ready to leave. All except Wiglaf, who had gone ahead as usual since his encounter with the amulet. Ivarr didn''t rest, didn''t sleep, just stared at the tree line, as if he could clear a path with just his gaze. For some reason the pocket, the one that held the amulet, itched, but the Viking decided to try to ignore it. But Ivarr was snapped out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder, and he turned, his right hand already on his sword. Only to find Guthrum, who held a worried look. -What''s up, old friend? asked the captain. -I think you need to see this - was the reply of the mate. And, without waiting for an answer from his superior, he turned his back and walked on. Ivarr followed him, for some reason he had a feeling there was something serious. Following his mate and friend through the camp, all covered with trees since there was no beach, they went deeper until the camp could only be identified by the sounds of the crew. Halfway across was Wiglaf, sitting and shooting more arrows. -Why did you take so long? ¨C the young hunter greeted them -Look how you talk boy! ¨C snapped back the mate ¨C Ivarr is still your captain! Ivarr responded by placing a hand on his old friend''s shoulder as a sign of calm. The two looked at each other and Guthrum chose not to rant anymore. -Why did he call us here? ¨C asked the captain We are almost leaving -Exactly! ¨C replied the young man ¨C This has to do with our mission. -Like this? -We have company, and more than locations. With that Wiglaf backed away from a tree he used for support, revealing knife-engraved inscriptions. Norse runic inscriptions. -Those are? - The First Mate asked, as he realized what he saw -Runes, yes - Replied the young man. -But how did they get here? -Someone made them, but who? -My dad! The two officers stopped talking to look at their captain, who was staring impassively at the writing on the tree. They stayed like that for a few tortuous moments that felt like hours. Guthrum was the first to break the silence -How do you know that boss? -The writings, they tell a message -What would they be? -this time it was Wiglaf who spoke -About what he left, my mother and I for - the captain turned to his subordinates - It''s a message about Tir na Nog.