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

by D. A. Roberts

“Traitor!” screamed the other warrior that had been taken off of his mount.

  He launched himself at Bergelmir, roaring in fury as he raised his massive battle-axe. Bergelmir was faster, dodging to the left before the blow had reached its target. As he spun to attack the exposed flank of the off-balance warrior, steel rang on steel as Suttung's blade caught Bergelmir's and they locked together.

  “So be it,” growled Bergelmir. “Now we shall see if you can enforce your decision.”

  Suttung chose to let his steel answer for him. The two massive warriors clashed together with the force of a thunderstorm. The crashing of their steel could be heard for blocks away, ringing with the fury of the two titanic warriors. Despite the view from above, I could tell that they were close to equally matched.

  When the second Hrimthurssar warrior entered the fight, I began to wonder if Bergelmir could win. I knew that they had the advantage, but he had already brought the odds down considerably. Two Vargr were dead as well as one of the warriors. The third Vargr had fled the area. Undoubtedly, this had to be coursing through the minds of the two warriors that still faced him.

  Suttung feinted to the left and the other warrior lunged in on the right. Bergelmir attempted to parry the blow, which left his side open to Suttung. With a quick reverse of his blade, Suttung scored a deep gash down Bergelmir's left side. I heard the big warrior grunt in pain as he whirled his blade in a wide arc to force both enemies to disengage and take a few steps back to avoid the vicious slash.

  The second warrior made another feint, expecting Bergelmir to react and be drawn in so Suttung could get inside and finish the job. Bergelmir had other plans. Ignoring the feint, he stepped rapidly towards Suttung and slashed downward in a savage blow that was meant to cleave him in half. Suttung only barely managed to parry the blow, locking their swords together in an “X” across their bodies.

  Shifting his grip, Bergelmir let go of his own sword with one hand and grabbed the hilt of Suttung's blade. Wide eyed, Suttung stared at Bergelmir and tried desperately to figure out what he was trying to do. Before he could react, Bergelmir leaned through the “X” and drove his forehead into Suttung's nose.

  The crunching of bone could be heard over the grunt of pain as Bergelmir leaned back and kicked Suttung right in the stomach. With a whoosh of air and a spurt of blood, Suttung went flying backwards and left Bergelmir holding both swords. He stood triumphant and twirled both blades around, driving the tips into the ground.

  The other warrior brought his blade up and attempted to attack Bergelmir's back while he was distracted. Instead of catching the big warrior off guard, it only seemed to spur him on to greater action. Whipping the blades around as he turned, Bergelmir engaged the blade and began striking blow after blow with rapid succession. The other warrior could only block furiously as he backpedalled away, only millimeters ahead of the whirling blades.

  Suttung got shakily to his feet and snatched up the battle axe from the fallen warrior, then charged back into the fray. By the time that Suttung had returned to the fight, Bergelmir had already scored numerous deep cuts across the other warrior's arms, legs and torso. Although none of them were life threatening, they were all bleeding profusely.

  As Suttung engaged, Bergelmir turned into a flurry of slashing blades that seemed to catch every blow that was aimed at him. The ringing of steel on steel was so constant that it was almost one continuous noise. The speed of their attacks was almost mind-numbing. They were moving with such power and ferocity that they looked like the ancient Gods doing battle.

  Bergelmir's footwork was amazing, stepping over debris and obstacles without so much as missing a beat. With a sudden reversal of blades, he spun inside and changed his angle of attack. His blades were now engaging the other direction and the two Hrimthurssar weren't prepared for the sudden change.

  With a sudden snap of his wrist, Bergelmir took advantage of an opening and drove one of his blades though the abdomen of the other warrior. Before Suttung could react, Bergelmir spun around and neatly decapitated the mortally wounded warrior. He pulled his blades free and stood ready to face Suttung before the body had even crumpled to the ground.

  “Where is your advantage now, Suttung?” taunted Bergelmir.

  “Time is my advantage,” snarled Suttung. “Every minute brings your doom that much closer. Even now, more warriors are approaching. Soon, you will be completely surrounded and we will have our prize.”

  “You would return Grant's bravery with deceit,” rumbled Bergelmir. “If not for him, you would be dead at the hands of the Eldjötnar.”

  This seemed to make Suttung stop and think. For the second time, Bergelmir had made him question his loyalty to Thrym. This time, Suttung seemed to be much deeper in thought than before. I could see the doubt flashing in his eyes and the confusion clearly etched on his face. Suttung was torn between his own sense of honor and his duty.

  “It is too late for Grant,” said Suttung, softly. “There is nothing more that we can do for him. Thrym and Loki will destroy this world and all who stand in their way.”

  “Not if we stop them,” replied Bergelmir. “The end of Ragnarok is not yet written in stone.”

  “Perhaps not,” said Suttung, looking up at Bergelmir with determination. “But it will be written in blood.”

  “The question is,” Bergelmir said, his voice resonating deeply, “who's blood and can you live with your choices?”

  Suttung seemed to almost shrink into himself. I could see that he was questioning everything he knew. The turmoil on his face was as plain as day. Bergelmir sensed his doubt and pressed it further.

  “Will you betray a man who has only treated you with honor,” he added, “or will you stand with the one who would kill you himself, if he thought it would gain him power or position?”

  The axe lowered slightly in Suttung's grip and his shoulders slumped.

  “What would you have me do?” demanded Suttung. “Betray our people and side with the Einherjar?”

  “I would only ask you to decide what is the honorable thing to do,” replied Bergelmir. “Only you can decide what your honor is worth. I know you are an honorable warrior.”

  Suttung took a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling heavily. When he looked up, there was resolve in his eyes. For good or for ill, he had made his decision. I could only hope that it was the right one, for all of our sakes.

  “If I join you,” said Suttung in a low voice, “it will mean that I can never return to Jotunhiem.”

  “I understand this,” replied Bergelmir. “I cannot return, either.”

  “What of our people?” asked Suttung.

  “There are those among our people who understand honor,” answered Bergelmir. “There are more than you might think. If we can defeat Thrym and Loki, we will see that they do not speak for all of our people.”

  “Then we must not fail,” said Suttung. “I do not wish to be branded a traitor forever.”

  “Nor do I,” agreed Bergelmir.

  “So where do we begin?” asked Suttung.

  “We must help Grant to achieve the nigh impossible. We must help him defeat not only Thrym, but Loki.”

  “Do you think that Grant can do this?” said Suttung.

  “We shall see,” answered Bergelmir. “The eyes of the Gods are upon this battle. The fate of the Nine Worlds may rest in the balance.”

  “Then let us get started,” said Suttung with a grim look of determination on his face.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Versus the Horde

  “Half a league, half a league, half a league onward,

  All in the valley of Death rode the six hundred.”

  - Alfred, Lord Tennyson

  - The Charge of the Light Brigade

  Bergelmir and Suttung lowered their weapons and grasped forearms in a warrior's embrace. They were exchanging words, but I could no longer hear them. Something had startled the raven, whose eyes I was seeing through. As it flapped its way into the
sky, I could see it was surveying the area of the parking lot to the south of them. There, crossing the distance at great speed, was a dozen of the Hrimthurssar mounted on Vargr.

  I wanted to cry out and warn Bergelmir, but all I heard was the cawing of the raven. It circled around and landed on a pile of debris a few yards away from the two warriors. Then it began to squawk and flap its wings furiously. This got the attention of both Suttung and Bergelmir and they began to walk towards the frantic bird. As they passed the corner of the building, Bergelmir turned his head and saw the approaching horde of warriors.

  “Look!” called Bergelmir, pointing.

  “Ymir's bones,” snarled Suttung. “We can't fight that many at once.”

  “We do not have a choice,” replied Bergelmir. “We must not let them find Grant until he is healed enough to fight.”

  Exchanging his battle axe for the two swords that were on the fallen warriors, Suttung nodded grimly at Bergelmir.

  “Then to the death, it is,” whispered Suttung. “We shall fall together.”

  “And death it shall be if we do not find a way to prevent them from simply overrunning us with their Vargr,” replied Bergelmir.

  “I have an idea,” said Suttung. “Follow my lead.”

  Suddenly, Suttung turned towards Bergelmir and swung a sword at him. He easily parried the blow and anger started to rise inside of him, until he realized that this was Suttung’s plan. Blow after blow came at Bergelmir until they steadily increased the speed to near full out. They were both telegraphing their blows so the other could easily parry, but the display was enough to convince the coming horde that they were indeed trying to kill one another.

  Fanning out, the mounted warriors formed a semicircle around them and came to a stop to watch the fight unfold. Although they had come looking for battle, they were more than willing to let the two warriors finish their duel before they decided what to do next. Bergelmir glanced around, looking for the leader of this raiding party. He wasn’t surprised to find that the leader was the warrior named Hrungnir. He was one of Thrym’s most loyal supporters.

  “Finish the traitor,” bellowed Hrungnir. “We have other quarry this day.”

  “That might not be as easy as you think,” rumbled Bergelmir.

  As if on cue, both Bergelmir and Suttung turned in unison and struck out at the nearest of the Vargr. Before anyone could react, they had wounded two each and Bergelmir had cleaved the skull in on a third. Hrungnir roared in fury and had to fight to control his mount. Although the Vargr made formidable combatants, they were easily distracted and did not react well when one of their own was hurt.

  “Kill them both!” thundered Hrungnir. “Suttung will pay for his treachery! Bring me his head!”

  With that, the warriors surged forward, but they had lost their attack momentum when they came to a stop. They were not moving fast enough to be as big of a threat. At the speed they would be going now, they would be easily avoided and just as easily struck.

  Before Hrungnir’s men had time to draw their weapons, Bergelmir and Suttung had already dealt heavy blows to three more of the Vargr, forcing the others to fall back or lose their mounts. Once on the ground, the fight was going to be on more equal footing. They would still be outnumbered heavily, but they would be able to fight back to back and prevent themselves from becoming swarmed.

  Spurring his Vargr to attack, Hrungnir leveled his massive spear at Bergelmir and tried to ride him down. Bergelmir parried with his left hand sword and spun completely around, slicing deeply into Hrungnir’s right thigh with his free sword. The wound sprayed blood out in a massive spurt and cut the flesh down to the bone. Hrungnir roared in both fury and pain as he fought desperately to stay on his mount. The spear clattered to the ground, forgotten in the white-hot agony he felt.

  Before Bergelmir could press the attack on Hrungnir, two more of the Hrimthurssar stepped in and launched themselves at him. They attacked simultaneously, forcing Bergelmir to go on the defensive just to keep from being cut to pieces. If he hadn’t been using two weapons, it was likely that they would have finished him on the spot.

  Swinging both blades in a wide arc, Bergelmir deflected their blows and went on the offensive. With powerful strikes, he forced them both back before slipping inside their defenses and slicing one of them from left shoulder to right hip. The wounded warrior fell with a cry of pain, but Bergelmir didn’t have time to finish him. He was already being pressed by two fresh opponents that charged in.

  Blow by thunderous blow, they forced him back until he felt himself come into contact with someone. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that he had fought his way to Suttung. Now that they were back to back, they could cover each other and continue to face all who would come for them. They synchronized their movements to maximize their defense, giving them the best chance of survival.

  The first warrior to directly challenge Bergelmir came in with a flurry of attacks that Bergelmir had to constantly parry. Turning to the left, Bergelmir kept the warrior’s blades engaged, opening his side up for a savage thrust from Suttung. The blade pierced deeply into his stomach and his eyes flew open wide in shock. Before he could sink to his knees, Bergelmir disengaged his blades and quickly lopped off his head.

  The next warrior to charge in was more cautious, having just seen his comrade beheaded. He moved in low, slashing at Suttung’s legs. For his part, Suttung parried the blows and a quick reverse of Bergelmir’s blade shoved six inches of steel through the interloper’s exposed face. Twisting the blade savagely, Bergelmir yanked it free as the lifeless body fell in a heap at Suttung’s feet.

  Strike for strike, Bergelmir and Suttung moved like a well-oiled machine and soon the bodies of eight of the warriors lay at their feet, either dead or dying. Although they were exhausted, they were both jubilant that they had fought so many and were still standing. Their celebration was to be short-lived.

  As two warriors engaged Suttung, he didn’t see that that attack was a distraction. A third warrior threw a spear and pierced Suttung through the ribcage and buried the tip deep into his chest. Blood erupted from Suttung’s mouth and he could feel the cold steel piercing his heart. Already his hands were growing numb and nerveless as he fought just to keep his grip on his swords.

  As he fell onto his knees, the two attackers rushed in to finish the job. Before they could dispatch Suttung to the next realm, Bergelmir spun and engaged them, taking them both by surprise. His first blow crushed the skull of the one to his left while his second blade drove the attacker’s sword up and away. Slicing downward with the other blade, Bergelmir slashed him from right shoulder to left hip, neatly spilling out his intestines.

  Spinning around, Bergelmir threw one of his swords and impaled the warrior who had thrown the spear. He fell to the ground, clutching at the blade that protruded from the center of his chest. The light dimmed in his eyes as he fell forward onto his face, forcing the blade deeper into his chest. His lifeless body lay upon the ground with three feet of steel sticking out of his back.

  Bergelmir stood there, breathing in great gasps as he fought the exhaustion that was trying to claim his limbs. His adrenalin was fading and the battle was beginning to take its toll on him. He was bleeding from more than a dozen wounds and his hair was plastered to his head with sweat. He began to take a quick mental count of the bodies, hoping that it was indeed finished.

  With sudden horror, he realized that there were only eleven bodies. There was still one more warrior to fight, unless they had fled the field of battle to call for help. Bergelmir knew that this was unlikely since the Hrimthurssar were not known for running away from a fight. Slowly, he began to turn in a circle, searching for the final opponent.

  In a blinding flash of speed, one last mounted warrior charged in to take him down. The Vargr sank its teeth deeply into his left shoulder. He could feel them grinding against the bones in his chest. Staring down at him with fire in his eyes was Hrungnir. After everything that had happened, the fan
atical warrior was coming in to finish the job.

  Raising his sword high into the air, he swung down with a blow that was meant to split Bergelmir like a piece of wood. Twisting as far as he could, Bergelmir deflected the blow with his one remaining sword, but he could feel the teeth tearing deeper into his flesh. The blood was flowing hot and sticky down the front of his armor and dripping in large drops onto the asphalt below him.

  With a bellow of rage and pain, Bergelmir thrust his sword deep into the throat of the Vargr whose teeth were still locked into his flesh. As the beast fell away taking a big chunk of meat with him, Bergelmir cried out in agony. Blood sprayed high into the air as one of the arteries in his shoulder gave way.

  Hrungnir drove his blade through the center of Bergelmir’s chest as he fell from the back of the dying Vargr. Bergelmir stumbled backwards, dropping his sword in the process. He was bleeding heavily and his strength was quickly fading. It was only a matter of time before he fell. I could see him turn his face towards the direction that we had gone.

  “Go,” he gasped. “Do not let my death be for nothing, my brother.”

  “I won’t,” I said in my mind.

  I only wished that he could have heard me.

  A slow smile spread across his lips as he sank to his knees. I think, somehow, he knew what I had said. Blood was dripping from his nose and on his lips. I could tell that he must have massive internal injuries. I doubted that he would have survived, even if we had been there to give him all the first aid that we could. I wished that it didn’t have to end this way. Inside, I was crying for my fallen brother; for all of my fallen brothers.

  Suddenly, Hrungnir lunged over the body of the dead Vargr and brought his blade around in a blow meant to decapitate the dying Bergelmir. Generations of instinct kicked in and Bergelmir ducked the blow that was meant to finish him. As he grasped at the ground, his hands fell on the shaft of the spear that he had knocked from Hrungnir’s own hand.

  Spinning it around like a staff, he deflected another blow from Hrungnir’s sword and drove him back with the end of the shaft. Before he could recover, Bergelmir reversed the spear and drove it through the center of Hrungnir’s chest. The blade exploded from his back in a fountain of blood and pieces of lung.