Ragnarok Rising: Desolation: Book Five of the Ragnarok Rising Saga

by D. A. Roberts

  I knew that the storm should have covered all of the tracks, but I figured it was worth checking anyway. Just as I had thought, there was nothing left to see but the endless expanse of pristine snow. It even covered most of the trees, leaving only minimal amounts of bark showing through the ice. It was like the entire world had been frozen in the path of this new ice age that had fallen upon us in the wake of the comet strikes.

  I was willing to bet that every body of water in the area was frozen solid enough to drive a large convoy across without cracking the ice. It was bad enough that if you left a vehicle outside without the engine running, it wouldn’t take long before it froze up so bad that you couldn’t get it started again. That’s why we were extremely cautious about bringing any of our vehicles out of the facility. If they got stuck or ran out of fuel, we would lose the vehicle.

  That limited any supply runs to places within short walking distance unless we knew for sure that the reward was worth the risk. Although we could always use more supplies, it was likely that we had enough food and water to last us the three years that the Fimbul Winter was supposed to last. We had to be careful with the supplies we had on hand, but so long as we rationed things, we should make it. That only left the threat of the Vargr and the Hrimthurssar.

  “Wylie!” I heard Marko call from down below us. “You might want to come check this out!”

  I could tell by the sound of his voice that it must be something important, although I couldn’t figure out what it could be. They were on the inside of the gate. I turned and headed back down the stairs to see what was going on. I had to take my time going down the icy stairs, but moved as fast as I dared under the conditions.

  When I reached the bottom, I could see Bergelmir and Marko were kneeling beside the body of one of the Vargr. They were intently studying something that I couldn’t see. Whatever it was, they were obstructing my view. From the way they were examining it, I had the feeling that it had little or nothing to do with the body. A sinking feeling was beginning to form in the pit of my stomach. I was dreading seeing whatever it was, since it was unlikely that it boded anything but ill for us. None-the-less, I had to find out what it was.

  When I arrived at their side, I looked down to find something completely unexpected. Sticking out of the side of the Vargr's neck was a knife. Moreover, it wasn't one of our knives. It had a wicked black handle topped with the carven head of a raven. It was an ornately crafted knife, unlike anything I had ever seen before. However, that wasn't the strangest thing about it. The knife was pinning a piece of what looked like parchment to the fallen beast.

  Nodding at Bergelmir, he grabbed the hilt of the knife and pulled. Although it was frozen solid in the neck of the beast, it came free with a crackling of frozen blood. The parchment was still stuck to the crosspiece. The blade was blackened, both from the frozen blood and the oxidizing of the finish. It was curved like a small scimitar, with a blade about twelve inches long. The leading edge was sharp with about two inches of the tip being double edged. It was serrated along the rest of the back of the blade. I noted that it would fit perfectly along the back of my arm, in an ideal knife fighting stance.

  Bergelmir handed me the weapon with a grim look on his face. I was matching his expression, but there was no way that he could see it through the layers of clothing that I had wrapped around my face. I took the knife gingerly, almost as if I was expecting it to shock me as soon as I touched it. I knew that the blade wasn't going to harm me, but I was dreading the message that was attached to it. This could only have been placed here after we had killed the creature. That means that whoever did it had been right here, probably no sooner than we had gone inside the facility.

  “What does it say?” asked Marko.

  “I'm almost afraid to find out,” I replied, still looking at the dagger.

  “As am I,” agreed Bergelmir. “This is undoubtedly from one of the Hrimthurssar.”

  “Aren't they all dead?” asked Marko.

  “I guess not,” I said, shrugging. “Bergelmir says he's not sure just how many there are.”

  “That's fucking great,” muttered Marko. “For all we know, there's an army of those bastards out there.”

  “Unlikely,” rumbled Bergelmir. “It is likely that there could be as many as fifty, possibly more.”

  “Well, aren't you just a little ray of sunshine?” replied Marko, shaking his head.

  “I fail to see…,” Bergelmir began.

  “It's just an expression,” I said, cutting them both off. “It's sarcasm.”

  Bergelmir stood in silence, pondering the meaning of that, while Marko stalked off to where Spec-4 and Snake were inspecting the gate. Reluctantly, I removed the piece of parchment from the knife and examined it closely. It was frozen, so I would have to thaw it out before I could open it to read the note. Under other circumstances, I would have just stuck it in my pocket, but I didn't want any kind of dampness on my clothing or the air temperature would freeze it to my skin. It would be better to take it inside and let it thaw in the heat.

  I hated to have to wait that long to read it, just in case it was time sensitive. However, I didn't want to destroy it before I had the chance to see what it said either. Instead, I turned my attention to the only thing that I could do at the moment. I examined the knife. The ebony surface and details on the hilt drew me in like a moth to a flame. There was something familiar about this knife, beyond the symbolism of the raven's head on the hilt. I could see that there was etching on the steel of the blade, but it was covered with frozen blood. I had the sudden urge to get it cleaned off to see them more clearly.

  “I need to get these into the heat so I can get a better look at them,” I said.

  “Snake is building a fire in the guard house,” replied Bergelmir. “Take them in there while I finish with the Vargr. I will endeavor to finish as quickly as possible.”

  I turned and headed for the guard shack without another word, leaving Bergelmir to his task. As I headed for the small building, I could already see tendrils of smoke curling into the air from the small chimney on the roof. I could smell the wood smoke and knew that the temperature inside would not be comfortable, but it would be much warmer than it was in the open air. Without the wind blowing, it would be all that much better.

  As I stepped inside, I saw that Spec-4 had already taken off her gloves and head wraps. I joined her beside the fire and removed my own, as well. She was warming her hands over the stove as I tossed my gloves and shemagh onto the small table. I could see that she was watching me out of the corner of her eye, but saying nothing. I knew that we had an unfinished conversation, but doubted that this was the time to try to finish it. It would have to wait until we were alone and secure inside the facility.

  Laying the parchment on the table near the stove, I decided to let it thaw for a few minutes before I attempted to open it. I wanted to get a better look at the knife. It was almost as if I was compelled to do so. Something about the lines etched into the blade were oddly familiar. I couldn't see enough of them to translate, but my curiosity was killing me.

  Laying the blade directly on top of the stove, I watched as the ice began to turn back into liquid and hiss as it fell onto the hot surface. Turning the blade over, I let the other side heat up for a few moments before wiping the blade on a towel. The blood stained the fabric, but smeared away from the blade and revealed the runes beneath. I froze in shock when I read them. On the side that was facing me were the following runes:

  ᚹᛃᛚᛁᛖ

  With eyes wide in shock, I rolled the blade over and read a different inscription on the back side. It read:

  ᚹᛟᛚᚠ

  Spec-4 had to have seen the bewildered look on my face and knew that there was something wrong. She brought me out of my shock by grabbing my arm and shaking me.

  “What does it say?” she asked, concern in her voice.

  “What?” I asked, recovering from my surprise.

  “What does it say?” she re
peated. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

  “This side says wolf,” I said, turning the blade towards her.

  “And the other side?” she asked, cautiously.

  “That's what bothers me,” I replied, looking her in the eye. “It's my name, in old Norse runes.”

  “Why would someone inscribe your name on a knife?” she asked, incredulously.

  “I have no idea,” I replied, turning the blade over and over in my hand, studying it closely.

  The only thing that would come to mind was if someone had carved my name in it with the intention of using it to kill me. Although I'd never heard or even read about anyone doing that before, it still made more sense than one of the Hrimthurssar creating a blade of this quality for me. Considering that they had vowed to kill me, it was far more likely that it was intended for thrusting into my heart.

  “What does that mean?” demanded Spec-4.

  “I wish I knew,” I replied, “but it's doubtful that it means something good.”

  “Maybe the note will explain it,” she said, gesturing to the parchment on the table.

  I had completely forgotten about the note in the excitement of the moment. She was absolutely right, though. The note would hopefully explain everything. If not, then it was anyone's guess.

  Reaching for the damp parchment, I picked it up gently and then carefully began to unfold thick sheet. Despite the blood that had stained the back, the ink was clearly legible on the front of the page. The problem was it was entirely in Norse script. While I was good at deciphering individual runes, a note of this size would take me hours to read. I needed Bergelmir.

  Without thinking, I stepped outside into the cold. Instantly, the extremely frigid air sucked the breath from my lungs. I felt the icy grip on my face and hands. I expected to feel my skin cracking from the cold, but found that after the initial shock, it was bearable. I knew that it was cold enough outside that it should have frostbitten my unprotected skin almost instantly, but it didn't happen. I suddenly realized that it wasn't just the Hrimthurssar who had resistance to the cold. It appeared that the Einherjar had it, as well.

  “Bergelmir!” I called.

  He looked up from his work to see me standing in the open without my wraps covering my face. I could see the surprised look as he stood and began walking towards me. I motioned for him to follow me inside and headed back through the door.

  “Are you OK?” asked Spec-4, heading towards me.

  “I'm fine,” I replied. “The cold didn't seem to bother me.”

  “I noticed,” she said, checking over my face and hands.

  “See,” I said, grinning. “No damage.”

  She just shook her head and returned to the fire.

  “Must be nice,” she muttered. “Some of us still have to freeze out here.”

  Before I could reply, Bergelmir came in through the door, stomping the snow off of his boots.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “I need you to translate this for me,” I said, handing him the note. “My Old Norse is rusty.”

  “Indeed,” he said, taking the note and examining it closely.

  He stared intently at it for a long moment, frowning as he read.

  “How about reading it out loud, big guy?” asked Spec-4.

  “Of course,” replied Bergelmir.

  Laying the parchment on the table, he straightened it out as much as he could and sat his dagger on the top edge to keep it from rolling up. Holding the bottom edge down with his left hand, he began to trace his finger along the runes as he read.

  “This says it is intended for you, Wylie,” he began. “We wish to meet with you to discuss a matter of grave importance to us both. You should know that now we face a common enemy. Soon we will face the coming of the Eldjötnar. They will bring the fire that will burn all of Midgard.”

  “Who are the Eldjötnar?” asked Spec-4.

  “They are like the Hrimthurssar,” replied Bergelmir. “The legends say that they will cleanse the world in fire.”

  “How can the world burn if it's frozen?” asked Spec-4.

  “It will have to be a flame strong enough to melt through,” said Bergelmir, with a dark look on his face. “It will be the likes of which none have ever seen before.”

  “That doesn't sound good,” I said, shaking my head. “Does it say anything else?”

  “It says to meet them at the big bridge,” explained Bergelmir. “I am to sound my horn when we are ready to speak with them.”

  “I guess that means that they are nearby,” I said, frowning. “I'm not sure I like that idea.”

  “We could ignore them and let them freeze,” said Spec-4.

  “They will not freeze,” replied Bergelmir. “They are immune to the cold.”

  “How long will they wait?” I asked, more thinking out loud than really asking anyone.

  “I would guess that they will not wait for long,” answered Bergelmir. “However, if what they say is true, it would be worth our time to hear them out.”

  “And what if it's a trap?” asked Spec-4, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Unlikely,” said Bergelmir. “If it was battle that they were seeking, then they already know where we are. They would have used explosives to gain entry to the facility and fought their way inside.”

  “They still might do that, if we don't meet with them,” I added, grimly.

  “Likely,” said Bergelmir. “They are not above such an attack.”

  “Then how would they be as allies?” asked Spec-4, shaking her head.

  “Treacherous,” replied Bergelmir. “If we do unite against the Eldjötnar, they will turn on us as soon as victory is achieved.”

  “How do we know that these Eldjötnar even exist?” said Spec-4, a note of anger in her tone.

  “They exist, I assure you,” said Bergelmir, darkly. “They pose a far greater danger to us than the Hrimthurssar ever did.”

  “Then we'd better at least hear them out,” I said, reaching for my gear. “Get everyone together. If we're going to meet them, I want all of us there.”

  “I shall summon the others,” said Bergelmir, heading for the door.

  No sooner than the door had shut behind him, Spec-4 turned towards me and frowned.

  “Can I ask you something?” she asked, an edge to her tone.

  “Go ahead,” I said, reaching for my gear.

  “Why wasn’t I one of your chosen ones?” she asked, frowning deeply. “Why am I not one of the Einherjar?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “I don’t choose them.”

  “Then how do you know for sure?” she countered.

  “I just sense it,” I replied, shrugging. “I can’t really explain it.”

  “I’ve been there from the beginning,” she said. “At first, I thought it was because I was a woman, but then you brought that young girl in. She’s one and I’m not?”

  “I don’t choose,” I said, defensively. “If I did, you would have been the first one I picked.”

  “Then why not me?” she demanded. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Maybe it’s because the Gods have something else in store for you,” I said, shaking my head. “I wish I knew.”

  She seemed to think about that one for a moment.

  Besides,” I added, “I have a feeling that being one of the chosen may not end well for all of us.”

  “Don’t say that,” snapped Spec-4. “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “No, I don’t,” I replied. “We’ll all just have to wait and see what happens. We’re a long way from the end of this.”

  Before she could say anything more, Bergelmir returned from gathering the others.

  “They will be here in a moment,” he explained.

  “Maybe he knows?” said Spec-4, pointing at Bergelmir.

  “What is it that I might know?” asked Bergelmir.

  “Why wasn’t I chosen as one of the Einherjar?” she said, turning to
face him.

  “Because it is your destiny to be Valkyrie,” said Bergelmir, as if that explained everything.

  “What does that mean?” she asked, glancing back and forth at both of us.

  “It means that you will be the one who bears word of those who fall in battle,” explained Bergelmir. “That you will bear witness to the deeds of the chosen ones, and carry on the legacy after they are gone.”

  Spec-4 looked confused and near the point of tears. I could see the pain etched clearly on her face. I just hoped that she understood the implications of what he had said. It only verified what I was already feeling. The Einherjar would not survive the final battle. Although I had felt that this would be the case, it was quite another thing to consider when faced with it. Whatever was coming, nothing that we had faced so far had fully prepared us for it.

  “We don’t have time to worry about that, right now,” I said, slipping my shemagh back onto my head. “We’ll deal with that, if and when it happens.”

  That seemed to bring Spec-4 back from her thoughts. Although we both knew that something like this could happen, no one wanted to really think it through to its logical conclusion. Giving me a sad look, she reached for her gear and started bundling up against the cold.

  Bergelmir seemed almost eager to get going. He wasn’t one to sit idle for long. Since joining us here at our complex, I had been training with him almost constantly. My skills with a sword, spear and war-hammer had increased dramatically. While I wasn’t exactly looking forward to fighting the Eldjötnar, I was confident that I would be ready.

  By the time the others had joined us in the little guard-shack, I was starting to grow anxious about our coming meeting. If the Hrimthurssar wanted a fight, then we were walking right into a trap. If they weren’t setting us up and the Eldjötnar were a real threat, then there was a storm coming. Only this storm would change the face of the world, forever.

  Chapter Seven