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

by D. A. Roberts

  Searching quickly through the snow, I recovered my blades and forced myself to my feet. About fifteen yards away, I could see Thrym standing up and starting towards me. There was blood pouring from numerous wounds to his shoulders, chest, stomach and arms. Most of his armor had been destroyed and he was limping badly, but the determination in his eyes was not diminished in the slightest.

  "You are truly a worthy opponent, Grant," he said as he continued to come closer.

  "As are you," I replied.

  "It is too bad that we had not met under different circumstances," he admitted. "You are one that I could have called friend."

  "It's not too late," I said, keeping my weapons up in a defensive position.

  "Sadly, it is," he answered, shaking his head. "Our fates are fixed. I am oath-sworn to Loki as you are to your friends. I will not forsake my oath."

  "Nor will I," I said.

  "Indeed," he said, nodding sadly. "Your death will bring me no pleasure."

  After a long pause, he added, "My friend."

  "Nor will yours," I said, nodding with respect.

  "Then let us finish this and see one another again in the next world," he rumbled. "The first horn of mead will be lifted with tales of glory."

  With a pained look on his face, he forced himself to move as fast as he could. I was surprised at just how fast he could go, despite all of his wounds. I blocked a flurry of blows and continued to keep dancing out of range, only taking a few minor cuts to the arms and legs in the process.

  He lurched to my left and tried to drive the tip of the sword through my ribcage, nearly succeeding as I slipped to my right. I avoided the worst of the cut, but he still managed to slash a deep line down the side of my armor. Rolling to the side, I brought one blade down in a wide arc and sliced deeply into his extended left forearm. It wasn't enough to remove the arm, but it was deep enough to cut to the bone, severing muscle and tendons that controlled the hand. His left arm was useless now.

  He roared in pain and brought the sword around to slice at me. I caught the blow with my left hand blade as I flipped the right sword around so that I held it backwards again. As I continued to spin inside, I drove the blade through the center of his chest. It sank deeply into the muscle and slipped between the ribs, burying itself to the hilt and emerging from his back.

  I saw his eyes roll back into his skull as the sword dropped from nerveless fingers and clattered against the ice. Blood was pouring from his mouth, staining his moustache and beard a deep bluish-red. There were tiny bubbles in the blood and I knew that the wound was going to be fatal. I had pierced at least one lung.

  Collapsing onto his knees, his eyes regained their focus as he locked his gaze on mine. For just a moment, only the sound of the wind broke the sudden stillness that surrounded the battlefield. Not even the Vargr or the horses made any sound to break this solemn moment.

  "Finish it," he hissed, blood spurting out of his mouth and into the snow.

  Dropping forward onto his hands, he waited for me to end his suffering. It was the least I could do for him. The internal injuries he had sustained would kill him and it would not be a painless death, nor a quick one. He was asking me to grant him a mercifully swift death and I could not deny him.

  I felt hot tears sting the corners of my eyes as I brought up my sword in a warrior's salute.

  "Farewell," I whispered, "my friend."

  Then, with all the strength I could muster, I sliced through the back of his neck and watched as his blood rushed out in a massive fountain, covering the snow. His head rolled away and stopped upright facing me. I could see the eyes moving and then they seemed to focus on me. The mouth opened and closed a few times before the light faded from his eyes.

  Thrym, the Lord of the Frost Giants, was gone.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Road to Pensmore

  "Life has a certain flavor for those who have fought and risked

  all that the sheltered and protected can never experience."

  - John Stuart Mill

  Vigdis and Valdis approached slowly as I fought to stay on my feet. I didn't want to show any sign that I was hurt, but it was all for show. I could tell that they knew it, but didn't make any indication of it out of respect. Well, grudging respect, most likely. They both looked at me with an odd expression on their faces and wide-eyed looks that spoke volumes to the fact that they couldn't believe I had won. Come to think of it, I was more than a little shocked by it, too.

  "We will take him and prepare for his sendoff to the next world," said Vigdis. "It is our way."

  "Go ahead," I said, nodding gravely.

  Without another word, they gathered up his weapons and offered them to me as the victor. For one thing, they were much too large for me to use and for another, I had no desire to deprive him of his weapons in this life or the next.

  "Keep them," I said. "They should be part of his fire."

  Valdis looked shocked at my words, but Vigdis only smiled serenely.

  "I would have expected no less from you, Grant," she said, bowing with respect. "You are truly an honorable warrior. Bergelmir was right to choose you as his friend. Would that more of us had followed his example."

  Without another word, they picked up his head as two other warriors emerged to carry his body. I recognized them both. It was Aurvandil and Eggther. I remembered them from the first night in the cabin when Thrym and I had discussed our uneasy alliance. With grim nods, they turned and carried the body away to where a litter was being prepared behind Thrym's own Vargr.

  Fornjot came and stood beside me as they moved off carrying their fallen leader. He stood silently, giving them the respect that a fallen warrior was due. Vigdis and Valdis shared a dark look as they glanced at him, but said nothing. The name of Fornjot the Destroyer was undoubtedly well known among the Hrimthurssar.

  Once they were back across the frozen river, Fornjot turned to face me.

  "I have done all that I can for your friend, the warrior-maiden you call Spec-4," he said, nodding.

  "Thank you," I said, leaning against the Humvee for support.

  "Her leg was damaged badly and she lacks your healing ability," he said with a frown. "Undoubtedly, she will favor that leg for the rest of her life."

  "Damn," I muttered.

  "She is strong," said Fornjot. "No doubt she will remain a formidable warrior."

  "Thank you," I said, again. "I appreciate all that you have done for us."

  "Think nothing of it, Grant," he replied. "It is, as you say, the least I could do. We will ride with you and see you safely to your destination."

  "You know where that will take me," I said, turning towards him. "I go to face Loki."

  "If you should fall, I would rather face him while he is weakened than to wait for him to fully recover," said Fornjot. "Do not think this is merely for your benefit. If you fall, Loki will seek to destroy us as well. I would not give him time to hunt us down like animals. They will face us in battle on our terms, not theirs."

  I couldn't argue his logic. Hel, I would probably think the same way if I was in his position. It's a smart plan to make his move while Loki was hurt.

  "I will do my best," I said. "I have to face him. The Hrimthurssar will follow whatever Loki tells them. Once the battle is over, they will turn on you."

  "Of that, I have no doubt," said Fornjot, chuckling. "However, I would not discount the possibility of victory. I did not believe that you could defeat Surtr or Thrym, yet I watched it with my own eyes."

  "I'll keep that in mind," I said, grinning. "Win or lose, he'll never forget my name."

  "Since your vehicle is destroyed, we will hook some of our horses to a sled to carry both your provisions and your friend."

  "Thank you, again," I said, smiling.

  "I recommend you drink one of my healing quaffs and rest in the wagon, as well," he added.

  "That's probably a good idea," I said, nodding. "I think I could use the rest."

  "Tell me t
he direction of travel and we will get moving," said Fornjot.

  Digging my pocket atlas out of my pack, I explained to him where we were at and where we needed to be. Fornjot listened intently, making mental notes and nodding as he established the route he would take. By the time we were finished, they had already prepared the sled and horses. After arranging our supplies, they carefully made a comfortable spot for Spec-4 to lay down and gently lifted her into the back.

  For her part, she never made a sound. I could see the pain etched clearly on her face but she refused to cry out. I think she was more concerned with not showing weakness in front of our new allies. Not that I could blame her. I had the feeling that the Eldjötnar would not look kindly on any sign of weakness. They were a warrior culture and they only respected strength.

  After downing another shot of the fiery liquid that Fornjot called a "healing quaff", I felt somewhat better. I knew that my wounds would be closing, but it wouldn't be quick. Despite that, I decided it would be better to ride instead of lying in the back of the wagon with Spec-4. I might not be ready for battle, but I wanted to look strong before the Eldjötnar. I had the distinct feeling that they were watching me, gauging my strength. The fact that I had beaten Surtr and Thrym had elevated my status in their eyes and I didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize that.

  After checking all of my weapons and reloading everything, I headed for where Fornjot was standing with his horse. I could see him smile broadly beneath his helmet as I approached him. I knew that riding such a massive animal was going to be difficult, but nothing worth doing is ever easy.

  "Do you have another one of those for me?" I asked, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

  "I am certain that we can accommodate you," replied Fornjot. "If you think you are up to it."

  "I'm ready," I assured him.

  One of his warriors led a massive animal to me, with a coat as black as coal and eyes that smoldered like embers. Clearly, this was a powerful specimen even among the war horses of the Eldjötnar. There was an expectant pause from the warriors that were gathered around us. I knew that this was some sort of test, but I wasn't exactly certain of the meaning.

  I decided that it was either to watch me get torn apart by the gargantuan equine, or they were seeing if I was man enough to handle this animal. Undoubtedly, they had high expectations from the warrior that had defeated Surtr. Failure was no longer an option. I had asked for this kind of test when I decided not to ride in the wagon. Even if I hadn't realized it, they were gauging my every move.

  Leading the big horse over beside the wagon, I used one of the running boards to give me enough lift to reach the stirrups. Then it was just a matter of pulling myself into the saddle. This was far from my first time in the saddle and I knew that once I was in the seat, riding was going to be no different than any other horse I'd ever ridden. Only the fall to the ground was a bit farther.

  Sitting astride it wasn't exactly a picnic, either. The massive chest of the oddly majestic horse was uncomfortable to sit, but I grew used to it after a few minutes. All eyes were on me as I adjusted my position and took a firm grip on the reigns. The last thing I was going to do was give them the satisfaction of seeing me fail.

  "Ready?" asked Fornjot.

  "I am," I replied, grinning.

  "Then let us ride together," he said, smiling. "Fair warning, Grant. That was Surtr's own horse. It takes a strong hand to control him. He has spirit."

  Before I could say another word, the big animal snorted angrily and began tossing his mane. It was long and had braids woven into the side of it, containing beads and rune stones. Some of the runes I recognized as from the Elder Futhark[6], but there were many that I did not. Some were obviously combination runes, but not in any combination that I had ever seen. Some were completely new to me and I had no idea what they meant. I didn't have time to ponder it for long when the big war horse tossed his head and reared up on his hind legs.

  Quickly wrapping the reigns around my right fist, I dug in with my heels and grabbed the saddle horn with my left hand. Fore-hooves the size of hubcaps pawed at the air and sent snow flying away in all directions. The powerful whinny echoed off into the distance and great gouts of steamy breath erupted from the beast's nostrils. It wasn't a big leap of the imagination to think the beast was about to breathe fire. It didn't, but it wouldn't have surprised me.

  Pulling the reigns as tightly as I could and forcing his head down, I brought the rearing stallion to heel and his fore-hooves slammed down on the ground with the force of a small earthquake. I knew that as soon as his hooves hit the ground, he was going to try to bolt. I countered that by pulling harder on the reigns and leaning back against them with all the strength I had. Fortunately for me, it was just enough to keep the big beast under control.

  Prancing to the left, he fought for control and pulled against the reigns with all his might. Luckily, leverage was on my side. I managed to hold him and soon his attempts to shake me began to weaken and then stopped entirely. It might not last, but for the moment I had his grudging respect.

  "Well done, Grant," said Fornjot, nodding his approval. "There are few even among my people who could bring Volcano under control."

  "Volcano," I said, frowning slightly. "It suits him. Was this some sort of test?"

  "All of life is a test, is it not?" he replied with a shrug. "There were a few among my people who doubted that you were the warrior that we claimed you were. They thought that you were merely lucky in defeating both Surtr and Thrym."

  "Luck can sometimes save a man," I replied, quoting the Thirteenth Warrior. "If his courage holds."

  "Indeed," said Fornjot.

  "Let's get moving," I said, bringing Volcano around in the direction that I wanted to go. "We're burning daylight."

  I didn't wait for the reply. Instead, I kicked Volcano in the flanks and eased up on the reigns. Volcano didn't need any more encouragement then that. True to his namesake, he erupted into a run and thundered towards the city of Nixa, less than ten miles away. Fornjot's horse had to struggle to catch me, but he managed to come up beside me and get my attention.

  "Do not push too hard, Grant," he called to me. "If we get too far ahead, the Hrimthurssar will separate us from the others and attack."

  I hadn't considered that, so I reigned in Volcano and slowed my pace enough that we wouldn't get too far ahead of the others. Glancing back, I could see the wagon that Spec-4 was in was just beginning to move. The Eldjötnar warriors fanned out, forming a protective circle around it. Although the Hrimthurssar outnumbered us three to one, it was obvious that they weren't in any hurry to engage the Eldjötnar. I can't say that I blamed them, either. Pound for pound, the Eldjötnar were some of the fiercest warriors I'd ever seen.

  Behind us, the lightning was intensifying as more and more plumes of dark ash and smoke poured into the sky. I knew that the eruption was coming at anytime. Although I had no way to know just how far the lava would reach, I did know that I wanted to put as many miles between us and the eruption as possible. I wanted to be at least on the far side of Nixa before it happened, maybe even further.

  As slowly as we had to move to allow the wagon to keep up, I was beginning to doubt that we would be able to get far enough away in time. Just as we crested the hill on the far side of the James River valley, the city of Springfield exploded in a shower of fire, heat and molten rock. Geysers of lava launched hundreds of feet into the air and I doubted that even the valley would be enough to keep the lava from coming this far.

  "We've got to move!" I shouted, just as the blast wave washed over us in a great rush of hot sulfur-laced air. The horses began the scream as riders fought to maintain control of their frightened mounts. To his credit, Volcano merely tossed his head and snorted. It seemed that it would take more than the deadly blast of an eruption to scare this war horse.

  As soon as the initial blast passed over us I could see that despite the shockwave, no one had been knocked to the ground
and none of the horses were bolting in terror. That was good. It meant that they were more disciplined than their Hrimthurssar counterparts. I couldn't help but wonder what the Hrimthurssar would be like without Thrym calling the shots. I was curious about who their new leader would be. Frankly, I was hoping it was Aurvandil.

  If it was Aurvandil, then there was hope that this might yet come to a peaceful conclusion. At least, once Loki was dealt with. Until then, we were going to fight, no matter what I said or did. None of the Hrimthurssar would dare challenge Loki. That was my job and I was looking forward to finishing it.

  Turning back to gaze at the city that had been my home for so many years, I was stunned into silence as I watched the tableau unfolding before me. I was high enough on the hilltop that I could see into the city. Large sections were collapsing into a massive caldera that had formed from where the magma tap had been. From what I could tell, it had to be well over a mile across and who knows how wide. The entire city of Springfield Missouri was vanishing into the lava that now poured freely from the gaping maw of the caldera.

  Then the thought struck me that it was kind of a fitting end. For all of those who fell fighting the dead when they returned and for all the others who were victims. Maybe even for the living dead themselves. Then there were my fallen brothers and sisters. Both in uniform and the Einherjar. Snake, Bergelmir and Bridgett, as well as all of those that I served with at Nathanael County. This was the funeral pyre to end all pyres. They would be carried to the next world in the greatest conflagration imaginable. The Gods would be pleased.

  Sensing my thoughts, Fornjot turned to me and nodded respectfully. I realized then that it wasn't only our dead that the caldera was claiming. There were fallen among the Eldjötnar who had died there, as well. There were even fallen among the Hrimthurssar. It had to be a sobering moment for all who were gazing on the destruction.