The Storm of Garmr

by Bo Luellen

  Freyja gestured to Theriot and told her, “Touch your palm to the dead, and name the realm you wish to send them to.”

  Dallas wobbled at her way over to him, using the spear to keep her stable on the new legs. Edward grabbed her elbow and helped her along. She yanked back her arm and did her best to stand up straight.

  Juste looked at her with wonder, “Cho! You saved me! Thank you, Cher!”

  She looked down at herself again, then back to him, “I guess I must really love you because this is crazy.”

  The ghost laughed, “Well, you joli! I love your new look.”

  Her expression changed under the ram helmet, “I love you, Juste Theriot.”

  She stepped towards him, and she was able to touch him physically. Dallas leaned down, and their lips met. Finally, she embraced him with her hands, and the Valknut touched his back. A pool of white energy circled around his feet, and she pulled back.

  Looking deep into his eyes, she said, “Fólkvangr.”

  Juste dropped down into the mystical waters and disappeared into Freyja’s realm. Once again, the calm came over the graveyard. The glowing energy in her palm dimmed and eventually went out. She stood before the gods, with the white wolf fur-lined armor, and sighed in relief.

  The wind blew dry leaves across the vacant spot where the two gods had been standing. Edward looked back towards the cracked headstone of Juste, to find it had fallen apart again during the maelstrom of magical energy. Dallas put down her spear and grabbed hold of one end of the granite slab.

  Looking up at him, she asked, “A little help.”

  He pursed his lips together to keep from laughing, “Oh, my dear, I don’t think you’ll need much help. Lift it.”

  She looked at her muscular arms and then heaved. To her surprise, the massive stone popped up off the ground with ease. Dallas’s eyes beamed with delight through the armored slits in her helmet. She turned the headstone in the air and fit it neatly back in place.

  Picking back up her spear, she exclaimed, “It felt like it weighed as much as my mom’s Chihuahua, Pokey.”

  Edward gave a half-grin, “Yes, well, don’t go thinking you’re impervious. You’re mortal, just a little tougher than most. Your armor is magical, so it’s impervious to mortal weapons, but you aren’t. You will heal faster than normal in this form, but you’re not bulletproof.”

  Dallas looked at her palm, and asked, “How do I, you know, get back to normal? Or is this my new normal?”

  Edward felt the fatigue from the spellcasting. “You could stay like this, but I’m guessing your family would wonder where you went. I’m sure someone would ask a few questions when a six-foot-tall Valkyrie showed up for Christmas dinner. As for transforming back to your normal form, I have found that magic often works in a binary pattern. Call upon Odin, again.”

  She stepped back, threw her hand up to the night sky, and yelled, “Odin!”

  A black mist formed at her feet and bellowed upwards until it covered her entire body. Dallas Webb stepped out of the magical fog, waving her hands in an attempt to get it out of her face. She was once again her usual self and back to being five-foot

  She looked back at the disappointing black swirl, “So, now I’m supposed to fight against the Crimson Brotherhood… with a spear.”

  Edward turned and walked away as she yelled out after him, “Wait! What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to find the Brotherhood? I don’t even know anything about Norse mythology!”

  Edward fought against the overwhelming feeling of fatigue, “Perhaps this is a good time to work on those people skills of yours and find a teacher that can train you. As for your lack of knowledge of your patron deity, I suggest that you begin by getting a library card.”

  Chapter 14: David III

  Unknown Location – Unknown Date – Unknown Time

  David Keller woke up in a start from another leg cramp. It was the sixth time he had passed out from a combination of a lack of sleep and exertion. His hands were bloody from repeated escape attempts, and his legs were so stiff, he wasn’t sure how useful they would be if he got out.

  Time passes slowly in prison, regardless of its size. The only earmark of the passing day was the daylight that had poured into the small cracks in the casket. The lining of the box was responsible for a modest level of insulation, which kept some of the heat contained within his little box. Still, his fingers were numb from the cold, and he could feel his body dipping into hyperthermia.

  Overhead he heard another train whistle in the distance, “Fuck, not again.”

  His coffin vibrated slowly at first and then popped violently up and down. His head bounced off the wooden lid and he did his best to protect his skull. The locomotive passing overhead seemed to keep on for an eternity. Several minutes passed, as he rode out the torturous shaking. He said a silent prayer as the shaking turned again to a gentle vibration. When it was gone, all he could hear was the whistling of the cold wind and creaking of ropes.

  Suddenly he felt the box drop half a foot. He was startled by the sudden descent and stop. Holding onto the edges, he stayed motionless and in fear that it would fall again.

  He took a long breath, Let’s add falling the list of ways I could die. At least I’m sure now. I’m hanging by ropes under a train trestle, but which one?

  He saw new light coming in from the bottom of his coffin. The sudden drop had cracked the box. He forced himself to roll over and put his eye up to the hole. He saw the all too familiar green-tinted river water rushing by.

  David rested his head on the wood bottom, “Adding drowning…”

  Unknown Location – Unknown Date – Unknown Time

  The chill of his second night in the box had set in. The blaring sound of yet another train woke him from his sleep. The constant volley of locomotives kept him from getting any long-term rest, and sleep deprivation was setting in. His lips were chapped from lack of food and water, which caused his energy levels were almost non-existent.

  The pulsating rumbling caused his stiff and atrophic legs to spike in pain. He had already defecated himself twice, and the bottom portion of the box had a collection of his urine. David was too weak to protect his head from the bouncing motion, as it pinged off the wooden walls.

  He heard a woman’s voice from outside, “Es ist Zeit.”

  David startled fully awake, and frantically replied in a raspy voice, “Hello! Is someone out there? Hello! It’s time for what? Talk to me! Hey!”

  The drumming of the iron wheels on the metal tracks continued. David maneuvered himself down, where he could get his mouth closer to a small crack in the side. He screamed with all his might, but only a shallow sound came out of his dry vocal cords. After a few minutes, the train had passed, and he screamed for her again. Tears ran down his face, and the salty moisture burned his cracked lips and flesh.

  He looked up at the pitch darkness, My uncle is going to be all alone. He won’t be able to take care of himself, if I die. God, just let me die.

  From the inky blackness of his coffin came a pair of blonde eyes that appeared in front of him. He yelled and turned his head slightly. It was the face of the ski-masked superwoman, piercing him with a hard glare. She seemed to be floating over him, and about five feet away. He felt the coffin lid and realized it was impossible.

  He shook his head and cried, “No… no … you’re not here. You can’t be. This is a dream. This is just a bad dream!”

  The darkness around her face expanded until her entire body was visible in the black. She walked to her right and stuck out her hand. Appearing beside her was his Uncle Enrich. The elderly man was sitting in his easy chair, wearing his pajamas and monitors hooked up to his body.

  David’s heart beat faster as he soundlessly pleaded for her to leave the old man alone. The short woman walked behind the elderly German and carefully selected several of the wires from his heart monitor. While staring at David, she wrapped the ends around her black-gloved hands. He shut his eyes, but still, the vi
sion of continued. He beat his fists against the sides of the coffin, while she slinked behind the green recliner.

  The superwoman grinned through the black mask, “Es ist Zeit für ihn zu sterben!”

  She looped the cords around Enrich’s wrinkled neck and put her knee into the back of the chair. The old man continued to look ahead and laughed at something invisible in front of him. David shook his head as she snapped back on the wires and pulled it tight across her victim’s throat. The German’s eyes bulged out of his head, and one plopped out onto his cheek. His head shook violently from the brutal force she was applying. Blood flowed down his nightshirt, turning it from a powder blue to a bright red. Snot poured from David’s nose, while the life ran out of his uncle.

  She put both of the cords into her left hand and reached under the ski mask with the other. Enrich slumped over, as the superwoman pulled off her ski mask. As the cloth went flying behind her, David felt his mind shifting towards the unthinkable, as his own face looked back at him. He had the blonde hair of the cultist, but his face sat on top of her shoulders.

  He started hyperventilating as a sharp crack rang out. The top portion of David’s coffin dropped four feet and pitched his body towards his head. Instantly he was brought back to reality, and the image of him killing his own uncle was gone.

  He wormed his arms and tried to do a handstand against the wall above his head. He struggled to take the pressure off his neck. In his weakened state, it took a Herculean struggle to manage even a few inches of clearance. His biceps shook as he pushed his knees upwards to wedge himself in place.

  David’s cracked mind absorbed the vision as reality, Okay, David, you can’t let her get to your Uncle. You have to stop her! There has to be a way out of here.

  As if the universe responded to him, the top of the coffin gave way. The extreme angle spilled him out headfirst into the night sky. Keller put every ounce of his remaining energy into pushing his knees upwards to break himself. The man’s butt was just inside the coffin, while his upper body hung into the cold night air. His eyes refused to focus on the new depths, and the feel of the wind on his face made him tear up. With all his remaining energy, he did a sit up and felt around for something to grab. His bruised and bloody hands found something that felt like a rope. David pulled himself upwards and took a moment to let his sight adjust.

  A few moments later, the night illuminated with the moon and star shine, David found he was indeed under a train trestle and hanging a hundred feet from the water below. He could make out the dark wood coffin’s smooth exterior. Both ends had been secured by a thick rope. The portion towards the feet had been damaged but was still intact. The line he had in his hand was only hanging by one braid length. The rest of the cord had frayed and snapped.

  Looking up, he found the other end of the cords were secured around the railroad tie overhead. His strength returned enough for him to resume searching for anything to hook his foot into. Suddenly his left leg gave out, and David’s body went into free fall out of the end of the coffin. He held tight to the fraying rope that was barely still in one piece. The ache in his legs and arms were intense as the deterioration of being in the same position had done its damage.

  He put a foot up on top of the box to have it collapse inward. The hours of abuse and shaking had degraded the integrity of the coffin, and it busted into pieces under him. He held to the cord as the wood planks tumbled into the black night. The sounds of the timbers splashing down in the water sobered him to the fact that he had no chance of swimming to the shoreline if he fell. He felt the jerk and pop of another section of the rope break away under his weight. Across from him was the dangling rope that had held the bottom portion of his coffin. It was in much better condition, and the large loop at its end invited him to hope for salvation from his predicament.

  David swung his body back and forth and closed the distance to the other rope. He reached out with his foot and managed to catch the loop with his heel. Threading his other leg into the noose, David worked it up to his knees. The effort had caused a dull snap to sound out, as the rope he was holding broke in half. David screamed and tightened his legs around the loop. Now hanging upside down by his knees, he felt the sensation of his blood rushing to his head. Looking up at the ground below, he made out the sparkling reflections of the rushing water of a river in the moonlight. The pieces of his casket were partially swept away, while the rest was stuck in the sandy riverbed.

  David closed his eyes and thought, That’s about a 100 foot fall. The wood is stuck in the sand, which means that is only a foot, or so, of water. That sandbar underneath is going to be like hitting concrete. Dropping down is certain death. I suppose that’s what those things had in mind.

  From behind him, the superwoman’s voice said, “If you go head first, it will be quick.”

  He kept his eyes closed and responded, “If I jump, then I can’t come home to Uncle Enrich.”

  Opening his eyes, he saw the impossible. The visage of the short, ski-masked lady with blond hair was floating in the air in front of him. She moved close to his face and touched his head.

  David felt like his head was ready to burst from the accumulated blood flow, “How… can you be here? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

  From under the ski mask, she replied, “Weil du Amanda hilfst!”

  She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled hard, ripping it out by the roots. He screamed and balled up his fists, protecting his face. After a few seconds, he looked out from behind his forearms, to find nothing but open night air. The superwoman had gone, but in his right hand was a large tuft of his greying hair. He opened his hand, and the follicles floated out of his grasp, leaving behind the bloody roots. The anxiety and stress left him, as he started laughing at the moment of enlightenment.

  He suddenly realized, She’ll let my Uncle live if I stop helping Amanda. Yes. She’ll love me then. I won’t have to fear her. I can win her over. Just stop helping Amanda.

  His legs below were starting to lose circulation from the rope biting into the back of his knees. With a new focus, he looked up towards the bridge. David noticed the line was anchored a good ten feet up on a railroad tie. It was in relatively good shape and was holding his weight nicely. As he scanned his surroundings, he suddenly realized two more coffins dangling from the underside of the tracks behind him. Twisting his body around, he spun to face them. They were both made of dark wood and their ropes were similarly frayed.

  David’s voice cracked as he yelled out, “Hey! Hey!”

  He stilled himself and listened. The running water below was so loud, it made a white noise that drowned out everything. David looked back up the rope and took a second look at his chances to scale it to the top.

  Taking into account his condition, he thought, I could climb this if I was healthy.

  The silky voice of the superwoman whispered in his ear, “If you’re going to love me, you have to prove you can do this.”

  Without flinching at the phantom voice, he replied, “I’ll do it. I’ll make it… for you.”

  He gauged the distance between him and the next casket as close to ten feet. David attempted to perform a vertical sit-up only to hit muscle failure halfway through the effort. He collapsed back and hung by his knees once more. The biting on his skin was becoming numb, which meant David was losing blood flow. Soon he wouldn’t be able to control his legs and would drop headfirst onto the ground below.

  David looked up toward the bridge and saw the blond superwoman looking over the edge at him, “If you want me, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

  He took a deep breath and then pitched his upper body back and forth, shooting pain into his legs. After a few moments, his swinging had gained momentum. The cold night air was whistling past his face as his arc pulled him closer to his neighbor’s coffin. With each swing, he got a full view of the empty space below him, and fear poured into him, as he realized how dire his circumstances were. The rope overhead creaked as the co
rner of the railroad tie started to saw at the line.

  David swung his arms furiously into the swing, I’m going to make it. I’m going prove myself to you.

  The image of the superwoman appeared again and stood welcoming on top of the coffin. Beckoning David on with her right hand, she gestured towards the support ropes. He knew instantly what she wanted.

  Redoubling his efforts, he pulled himself to new heights of exertion as he envisioned the woman and him embraced in a kiss. Finally, one of the ropes that held it up was brushed against his hand. He grabbed for the braided hemp and unfolded his legs from around the loop. Instantly, he slipped out of the rough rope and free-fell on top of the hard cherry wood coffin.

  He caught himself by the edges of the box, as he suffered from having the wind knocked out of him. The pain shot him back to full consciousness, and the terror of almost having died brought him back to his senses. The image of the superwoman vanished, and he found himself alone on the top of the casket.

  David pinched his eyes closed, “No, no, no! She’s not real. Keep it together, man.”

  A raspy sounding Thomas Booth yelled up, “Hey! Who’s in there?”

  He wiggled his toes to force the blood to flow again, “Hey, it’s David.”

  The druid yelled up, “How are we doing?”

  David looked up and saw a third and final coffin hanging by ropes on the other side of Thomas’s, “Same as always.”

  His friend paused then shouted back, “That bad?”

  He felt the blonde woman’s voice trying to slip back into his mind, but he resisted, “How… how are you holding up?”

  Thomas’s voice sounded hoarse, “Good. I’m ready to go though.”

  David felt some stability from having a problem to work out, “Okay, working on it.”

  He used his arms to pivot, so he was laying longways along the casket. The sensation was back in his legs, but he still didn’t fully trust them. David maneuvered himself across the smooth top until he was straddling the coffin. He took stock of the condition of the braided hemp that held Thomas’s casket. The cords had been cut deep by the edges of the railroad ties, and he estimated that the increased weight wasn’t doing the situation any favors.