Power Play: Act 1 Svartalfheim (Ragnarok on Ice)

by Jeremy Croston

  Not everything in my life though is depressing. In the trade that sent me back to my home town, I was reunited with my best friend Stan Stansky. Unfortunately for Stansky, his parents had a strange sense of humor and named him Stan. Most of his life people gave him a hard time over it. I myself was named after some cartoon movie character that my mom had liked so I could appreciate his plight. Never once had I ever acknowledged how ridiculous his name was. His luck (and maybe skill) was better than mine and was called up a few different times but never for any length of time, so he stuck with the Bears.

  As an organization, the Bears have always thrived on mixing the new with the old. Their goal is to give Manchester a championship and each year since I’ve been here we have seemed to be on the right track to deliver that.

  I guess I should tell you a bit about my home. Manchester is a sleepy little town in the center part of the state, not all that far from Philadelphia. Even being that close to a big city, a majority of the guys lived here during the season. I bought a house here not too far from where I grew up and have come to grips that this is where I’ll probably be for a long time.

  Hockey practice was just finishing up and it’d been a long four hours. At thirty, my body was not nearly as tolerant of these marathon practice sessions as it once was. All that was left was the power play shooting drill and it was off to the whirlpool.

  “Coming up top, let it go!” It was my turn and I lined up a fired the puck as hard as I could. A little high but I thought it was a decent shot. Our goalie Mike Herbert apparently didn’t and snatched it out of the air with a wicked glove save. When it came to goalies, Mike was one of the best in our league and every day at practice it showed.

  “Decent enough effort Skelton, but damnit get that puck lower for a deflection! You’ve been around long enough to know the basics!” Ahh, good old coach Norm Clayton was up in arms again.

  The good thing about playing for Clayton was he demanded perfection. The bad thing about playing for Clayton was that he demanded perfection. “You got it coach.” I knew what he wanted to hear and obliged. “I won’t go head hunting next time.”

  “Alright Bears good practice. Let’s take tomorrow off and then on Saturday we’ll just do a light skate around in the morning. The Seadogs have been in a funk recently, but let’s not get complacent. Rest up and go over some game tape before the morning skate. Now get out of here so I can go see my wife and kids.”

  So just like that we were dismissed and hit the locker room. Don’t believe all the stories you here about locker room mischief. Most of the younger guys were under twenty-one and didn’t want to risk getting a negative reputation this early in their careers. The rest were older like I was and just didn’t care that much anymore for the crap that came along with certain lifestyles. They were a good group of guys and I was proud to have them as teammates.

  “Jack get your head out of the clouds and back down to Earth.” AS I came back to the present, “Want to join a few of us at Hooligans for a beer or two?” That’s Stansky for you. I guess you can’t fault the guy, what else did we have to do in this town?

  “You guys go on without me. My body needs the whirlpool and after that I think it will be a nice fourteen hour nap. But I appreciate the offer.”

  “Listen man, I know what’s going on. Being a shut in to society isn’t going to bring her back. You can’t keep beating yourself up over chasing a dream that may or may not lead to a dead end. Hell we all are.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  He put a hand up. “I’m not done. There are plenty of good women out there who would stand by you knowing the journey might be tough but in the end will be worth it no matter what happens.”

  I hate it when he goes philosophical on me. I hate it even more when he has a good point. “Alright, I’ll go just to shut you up. Can a guy at least shower and change before going out? Even to a hellhole like Hooligans?”

  “That’s a good idea, you smell like death warmed over.” He then lowered his voice and got semi-serious. “It will do you some good Jack getting out and interacting with the human race again. Hell who knows? You might even get out there and find what you’ve been looking for.”

  Chapter 21 - Hooligans

  When I got to the bar, Stansky was already joined by our teammates Jim O’Brien, Oleg Thorston, and Pavel Federov. The running joke was they formed the mandatory European line as they represented Ireland, Norway, and Russia respectively. In addition to that, they were damned good hockey players. The three of them played a rough and rugged style that drove most of the teams in the league crazy.

  O’Brien was definitely the worst of the bunch in terms of agitation. He’s the youngest of our group of five and a bit on the small side at only five foot eight, but man, he could get under people’s skin with the best of them. He’s also a bit demented and used his body as a missile of sorts. I was amazed he could walk most days let alone continue to play at a decent level.

  “Hey, look what the cat dragged in! It’s Bigfoot! I had heard there were sightings nearby, but to see you live in person is amazing!”

  Even O’Brien’s teammates weren’t immune to torment or dismay. “I might take offense O’Brien if you weren’t a redhead and had a soul. I know you’re just bitter about not being a real boy and this is your way of coping.” Rule number one; Redhead jokes never get old - I don’t care what anyone says.

  Federov was sitting beside O’Brien and he just ate up the banter. He’s a quiet Russian that came over to the states a few years ago. He got hurt pretty badly last season and is on the Bears this season to get back up to game speed. We sort of adopted him when he got here and he quickly started to open up. He is a pretty good sized left wing, and with his knee almost back to one hundred percent, probably the fastest skater on the team.

  English was definitely Pavel’s second language but don’t let that fool you. He was as sharp and calculating as they come. “O’Brien, are you just mad that someone stole your pot of gold?”

  It was over for the little Irishman and he took the abuse like a champ. Once we had our fill of making his life miserable, we settled in for a night of beers and game talk.

  After a few beers I noticed Thorston seemed to be getting a bit skittish and that was not normal behavior. The big Norwegian was as calm and cool as anyone I know. He also looked like your typical Viking warrior as he was easily six foot five and had darker blond hair that was on the shaggy side. Unlike me and my permanent five o’clock shadow, he had the full man’s beard. Along with Stansky and me, he’d been with the team for a few years. He was practically family at this point.

  “Oleg, are you doing okay over there?”

  “It’s nothing Jack. I think I should have laid off the fried chicken at lunch today. It must be catching up with me now.” The pre-practice spread normally consisted of some fast food chain that one of the trainers picked up on their way in. Today we were graced by the greasiest fried chicken this side of the south. Another reason to move up to the big leagues – the food is definitely a lot better.

  “Alright, if you say so. Anyways how is the little guy doing back in Bismarck?” Oleg’s girlfriend and the mother of his son, Nora, had been transferred to a hospital in Bismarck, North Dakota. I don’t know how he managed to see them as much as he did, but he seemed to be able to find odd ball flights whenever the chance arrived. He went on giving me the latest on them and that seemed to take some of the edge off but I still wasn’t convinced. After finishing up talking to Thorston, I turned back to Stansky and said as much.

  “I’m not sure what’s up with Thorston but something’s definitely a little off tonight.”

  “I noticed something too, but it probably has more to do with the fact he hasn’t seen his kid in over a month. He should know how Coach Clayton is by now when it starts getting closer to playoffs. Poor guy just wants us to catch up with the Icemen and get the four seed. Home ice and all in the first round, plus the town could use the moral.”


  I agreed with him, Clayton was a task master on the best of days and for the first time in three years the Bears had a chance to get a top four spot for the playoffs. The people here would love it and for some of the older guys on the team like me this would be a great way to maybe call it a career.

  As I was thinking about that, I noticed something that seemed a little out of place. Over in the corner, behind the pool tables, was a very tall, thin man who kept looking over at Oleg when he thought he was in the clear. He was dressed in mostly darker clothes and had a long duster type jacket on with what appeared to be almost a cowboy hat.

  Under the hat was wild looking hair that calling red would do no justice. It looked like it was on fire or something. The whole ensemble gave him the look of a crazed outlaw. He then looked over at me and his eyes weren’t quite right. They were an ice cold blue color with a permanently blood shot effect around the pupil. The effect they gave off was quite unsettling.

  “Everybody get down!”

  That was Thorston’s voice and he pushed us all to the side. Looking back I can remember the events more clearly. Right there and then it was just total panic among all of us. Stan, Pavel, and O’Brien were closest to the end of the bar top and were able to jump out of the way. I was right beside Oleg and had no choice but to hit the deck. The bar just blew up, like it was hit by a cannon, with wood splinters going everywhere.

  The crazy cowboy, in the blink of an eye, was right on top of Oleg and throwing punches so fast I couldn’t even keep up. Oleg for his part in all of this seemed untroubled by the punches and was even returning some. The thin man jumped back quite further than he should have been able to. “Enough of this! It is time to end this charade and come home!”

  He pulled some sort of grenade looking gadget out of his jacket and threw it at Oleg. Doing quite possibly the dumbest thing I have ever done, I jumped up and tried to push him out of the way. Surprise, surprise, I wasn’t all that successful. The device hit both of us and as I was standing there praying to God that at least some of us would survive the night, the force hit so hard that I felt as if I was thrown miles into the air. All I could see was pure white light all around me when suddenly the world came back into view. The cold white powder all around me told me I was lying in a snow bank. I sat up quickly and looked all around for Oleg but all I saw was white and trees.

  “Oleg! Oleg where are you? Are you hurt?”

  That’s when I noticed, by the grace of God, I wasn’t hurt. Something wasn’t quite right here. Where exactly was I?

  “Jack, there you are! What in the world were you thinking? Are you hurt?” Oleg was pulling himself out of a snow bank about ten feet away.

  “No I’m good. I have this snow bank to thank for cushioning my fall. Where the heck are we?” This certainly wasn’t Kansas anymore. The more I looked around, the less and less I recognized. Oleg on the other hand looked as if he saw a ghost. I had a suspicious feeling he knew exactly where we were and that didn’t exactly make me feel any better.

  “Well Jack,” uh-oh - this wasn’t going to be good, “this is something I never thought I would have to share. Welcome to my home realm, or as it is referred to, Asgard. Also it would be wise if you did not address me as Oleg while we are here, as that is not my real name.”

  Not his real name? And why was he being so proper? Just what the hell was going on here? “If you’re not Oleg Thorston, then just who are you?”

  “Around here, most of the folks refer to me as Thor, you know like the Thunder god.”

  I started laughing. That was the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. I was about to respond as such when my head started pounding. The pain started building and just when it got to the point I thought my head would explode, I passed out.

  Chapter 22 - Sif

  “Is the human broken? What do you do with them if they cannot be fixed?”

  That caused me to wake up in a hurry. I was certainly not broken. Maybe a bit dismayed at the dream I had and the fact it still seemed to be going on. Wasn’t I supposed to wake up in my own bed with a terrible hangover and laugh at how real the dream was? Unfortunately for me, this was no dream. I was in a log cabin type house with a giant hearth that had a warm fire going. From what I could tell I had been asleep on something that resembled a cot.

  “See my friend Jack is quite fine! Probably still a bit disoriented and in shock over the way Loki brought us here. I did not think a returner would work on Midgard, but it seems to have been successful.”

  I was still shaking the cobwebs out of my head. “Oh yeah, I’m just peachy Oleg, or Thor as you claim to be. And what other fun facts do you have to share that you think I’m dumb enough to believe?!”

  “Jack, please calm down, everything will be explained. Is that not right Sif?” It was at that time I took in the other occupant of the room I was in.

  She was as tall as me (which made me feel a bit inadequate as I was five foot ten) and she was beautiful. Her brunette hair shined like the sun was hitting it even though we were inside. Also, she was dressed very different than Thor or I was. We were wearing jeans, Bear’s practice shirts, and sneakers.

  She, on the other hand, was wearing hunting boots, black pants made out of some sort of leather material and a lot of animal fur. PETA wasn’t going to be happy. But when I looked at her eyes, they were very dark brown and very stern, like I had no business being here.

  “Thor tells me you were under the delusion he was in danger and tried to save him. That device Loki threw was a returner. Only Thor was supposed to be brought here, to Asgard. Since you were also hit by the device, it brought you here too. Do not worry; we can get you back to Midgard as soon as we reach the Halls of Valhalla.”

  Wonderful, so even the tall good looking brunette was acting as if it’s not a fictional universe. “Well I thank you for taking care of me in this situation,” I looked at both of them and composed myself, “but seriously this has to be a dream or hallucination. I might even be dead and this is my mind trying to have one last adventure before I die. I hope you both realize you’re both insane.”

  Thor smiled, “I know Jack, but as your teammate and friend please trust me. This is all real and we are in fact in Asgard at this moment. If anyone else found out about your presence before we were able to talk to Odin, you would be in a lot more danger than you even realize.” You could tell he was pleading with me to believe him. I really wanted to but I had just fallen down a very long rabbit hole. That’s when Sif chimed in.

  “Thor tells me you are a very accomplished warrior in the ways of the Midgard ice ritual known as hockey. I would not have believed the humans would have enjoyed such activities until I saw all of your old injuries.”

  This I started to take offense to. I was about to explode into a very long winded and detailed explanation of what we humans could do, but she took my prolong silence as a cue to keep on talking.

  “Asgard is in need of such skillful people. I take this as a sign from The Norns that you were brought here to help us end this ongoing conflict with the dark elves. Thor, we must see the Allfather immediately to seek council on this.”

  “Sif, Jack is not of our realm and needs to get back to Midgard. The issues that have arisen between Asgard and Svartalfheim is neither his business nor was it mine. As it is, since I have been so conveniently brought back home I will lend my support for a peaceful resolution.” His stare seemed to make her realize that this conversation was over.

  I also picked up the vibe that there was a lot more here than meets the eye. The tension between these two anyone could see was boiling just beneath the surface. However, Thor just sighed and then continued on. “Well, it should only take maybe a day or two by dog sled. If we all could fly as I could, we would be there in mere hours.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was serious about the flying bit, but I really wanted to get home as soon as possible. “As you said, let’s beat this popsicle stand and go see the big man shall we?”

  I could tell Sif
was confused and she let us know. “What is a popsicle stand and why does it need beaten? Should I take an extra sword or axe along on this trip in case one of them came through behind you two from Midgard?”

  I’m not sure why, but that did it for me. I just started laughing like a kid who heard a dirty joke for the first time. I think Sif thought I was making fun of her (which I sort of was) and the tension was only broken when Oleg, erm Thor, started laughing with me. Finally, she just looked at both of us like we were slime.

  After Thor and I explained that it was just a Midgard saying to leave, I got my first lesson in Asgardian history, geography, wildlife, and general politics. By the end, I was even more apprehensive about this whole trip seeing as how their people were almost at war with another group called dark elves. To top it all off dark elves specialty was espionage and killing. Sif made it well known they would use me as target practice over and over again due to an intense hatred of all things non-dark elf.

  “So there are giant wolves out there that would consider me just a party snack, dark elf assassins whose job is to spy on your people and kill anything when they can, and a mentally unstable Aesir named Loki who does whatever he wants. Oh and as an added bonus, he can control fire,” (and not quite so ironically the one responsible for me not being in my own home right now), “but I shouldn’t worry about anything? How reassuring. Your two’s bedside manner sucks.”

  Thor just laughed at my reaction and you could tell he thought this was going to be a grand old adventure to tell one day. “Sif, did it show up? I figured it would have come back when I returned earlier.”