The Prophecy of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  “Ah, a trick I will never get tired of,” he said. “Although perhaps I should have waited until I felt better. My neck may actually hurt for quite a while.”

  “I see you retained your sense of humor, brother,” said Galdr. “Although, I did expect something a little more impressive from you. I thought you would have thought up with something more daring while you rested as a statue.”

  “Really,” said Loki surprised, “I thought that was quite good. The dwarf king certainly did not see that coming. And you Midgardians, you all looked suitably shocked.”

  They could only nod in agreement as they were still stunned into silence by the latest turn of events.

  “And now Jakobus will think that he has slain me, a Norse god.” Loki laughed, then winced. “That hurt my neck.”

  “Then you should not laugh so hard, brother,” said Freya. “Now, we will need to bring you up to date as to what has happened while you were cursed as a statue. Then we will need your help to restore Asgard to some semblance of its former glory.”

  “All in good time, all in good time, dear sister,” said Loki. “First, I now have a crown, and there is a certain princess I must find.”

  “You wish to torture Jakobus more?” asked Freya.

  “Who, that dwarf princess? No, she was very beautiful and very kind. But I like my princesses a little colder and haughtier. I am talking about the frost giant princess. Tell me Hugin and Munin, does she still live?”

  The ravens both nodded in agreement.

  “And has she been awakened from her slumbers as well?”

  The ravens again nodded in agreement.

  “Good, then I think I will take my new fancy crown and find this frost giant princess and make her mine. And I think I finally may have a present for her that will impress her and her stupid brothers and father.” He spun the crown in circles on one finger.

  “Brother,” blurted Freya, “we will need your help to rebuild Asgard.”

  “No, you do not,” was Loki’s reply. “I was never very good at coordinating colors with the furniture anyways. Besides, I think you already have some ideas of how you envisage the new Asgard, so I will leave it to you and our blind brother. He at least will not give you any competition or ideas when you choose your color scheme.”

  Freya sighed loudly. “There is more going on in the realms than us simply rebuilding Asgard,” she said.

  “And again, I leave that to you and our blind brother as well,” said Loki. “Honestly, I get bored way too easily. You would tire of me in a heartbeat. The first time I would disagree with you about how many windows a new building should have, you would have me fired from any position.”

  Freya allowed herself a small smile. “You do know me well, brother,” she said. “Fine, go anger the frost giants once again. I know we will be dealing with them sooner or later. You may as well make it sooner.”

  With a kiss on Freya’s check, and a pat on Galdr’s head, Loki drew a portal rune in the sand and with a clap of his hands, disappeared.

  “Has he always been like that, sister?” asked Galdr. “Or has time simply made me forget how unbearable our brother can be at times.”

  “Yes, he has always been like that. Now, to the task at hand: rebuilding Asgard.”

  Magnus cleared his throat. “Freya, I think you may have forgotten about the Midgardians.”

  “Ah yes, thank you, sweetheart. Galdr, any gifts for our guests?”

  “I think I know what they want,” he replied. He snapped his fingers once, and a basket of food suddenly appeared in everyone’s hands. “I think that should be enough for everyone.”

  “Then off to Midgard they should go, for they need their rest,” said Freya. “The elves are like a bear that has been stung by many bees on its nose: angry and looking to hurt someone. They cannot be ignored. Farewell, heroes of Midgard. May we meet again soon.”

  “Yes, farewell, young heroes,” said Galdr. “Especially you, Arastead and your cat familiar. I wish you well on your journey of magic.”

  Galdr drew an imaginary portal rune underneath everyone’s feet and with a snap of his fingers, everyone disappeared, only to reappear in the portal rune at Freya’s temple outside of Trondheim.

  Grum stretched his arms and legs. “Well, I say this is as good a place as any to enjoy our picnic,” he said as he opened his basket.

  And everyone cheered as they sat on the ground and began feasting on their picnic.

  “Wait!” cried Arastead, “someone approaches by portal rune.”

  “To arms, everyone!” cried Margret.

  Grum stuffed some bread into his mouth as he put on his Gloves of Strength and picked up his war hammer.

  “This had better not take too long,” he muttered, “as I am hungry!”

  CHAPTER 40

  Ogre Mage Punished

  “Bring in the ogre.”

  King Amaliji paced back and forth, his right arm in a sling. It had been many days since the failed attempt to kidnap Queen Astrid. No one had suspected that the people of Midgard would have been so adept at deceiving and then fighting the elves. Amaliji had also been surprised by the Midgard wizard’s portal rune abilities. Ogre Mage had trained those Midgardians too thoroughly and now had to be punished.

  With Amaliji were his advisor, Sundaliji and his necromancer, Branaliji. All of them waited patiently for Mage to appear.

  In a few minutes, the servants brought in Mage.

  He was dressed as he always was. A long blanket-like cloth wrapped around his large frame covered his entire body. His face could not be seen under a large hood. Taller than the king and his advisor by at least a hand, Mage looked as if he should have been a warrior, not one who practiced the arts of magic. He pulled his hood back, revealing his face.

  Mage stood silently waiting for the king to speak. He did not have to wait long.

  “You failed me, Ogre,” spat Amaliji. “Tell me, where is the Sorceress? I do not see her. She was supposed to be here. You were to train her. Why did you fail me?”

  Mage crossed his arms across his chest. “We will have more opportunities to kidnap Queen Astrid. Or, if we wait, we will kidnap her child after she is born.”

  Amaliji walked up to Mage and with his good hand slapped Mage hard across his face.

  “Fool,” snapped Amaliji. “Those Midgardians will have Queen Astrid under guard all day and all night. And those Midgardians you trained have items of magic that prevent us from kidnapping the queen or her child. We had one chance and you failed me.”

  Mage replied: “The blame must be shared; it is not for me to shoulder it all.”

  “Elves do not make mistakes,” sputtered Amaliji. “It was you, ogre, who made all the mistakes. It is you who will pay.”

  “I will pay,” replied Mage. “Just leave my wife and child alone, they do not deserve punishment.”

  Sundaliji chuckled a little too loudly.

  Mage managed to say: “You find my comments amusing, Lord Sundaliji?”

  Sundaliji looked up at the ceiling and began to laugh out loud. “How could we punish your wife and child, ogre?” he said once he stopped.

  Mage looked confused.

  “How could you be so dim, ogre?” said Sundaliji. “How long has it been since you last saw them? How many years? How many letters have you written to them? How many have they written back?”

  Mage’s face contorted in anger. “What of my wife and child?” he asked, his voice like distant thunder that was rolling closer.

  Sundaliji laughed again, but this time his laughter rang with mockery. “I thought you were supposed to be smart, for an ogre that is,” he said, crying with tears of laughter.

  Then Sundaliji walked close to Mage, his mocking laughter ringing in Mage’s ears.

  Sundaliji whispered: “Your wife and child are dead, ogre.”

  Mage looked to King Amaliji to see what his face said, but all he saw was confirmation.

  “How, when?” sputtered Mage.

&nbs
p; Sundaliji was enjoying himself far too much. Said: “Have you ever thought it odd that King Amaliji hunts all those deer in those woods near his castle? Did you not ever think that he would run out of deer to hunt? Let me tell you a little secret.”

  Sundaliji had circled back to Mage, leaned in close, and said: “Years ago, your wife and daughter were told they were free and that you were waiting for them on the other side of the forest. So, they ran through the woods calling your name. And we slowly filled them with arrows until they could run no longer. And then we ended their lives. You should have seen the expressions on their faces. It went from pure exhilaration to shock and disbelief. I think I may have even seen disappointment in their eyes; they thought there were going to see you and instead, all they saw were elves and arrows.”

  Mage’s eyes twitched.

  “I would say that there is no need for this ogre to be whipped,” said Amaliji. “I think his punishment has been appropriate.”

  Branaliji interrupted: “Hold, ogre!” he ordered. “I sense the magic you are pulling in. I strongly advise you to release that magic and not use it in battle.”

  Both Amaliji and Sundaliji backed away from Mage. Mage stared at the ground, not saying a word.

  “Stop drawing in magic!” cried Branaliji. “This is your last warning, ogre!”

  Mage’s head snapped up, his eyes bright with tears. He bellowed: “After everything I have done for you, this is how you repay me!”

  With his good hand, Amaliji unsheathed the Vorpal Blade. “Stand down, ogre,” he said. “You will not best us.”

  Tears now streamed down Mage’s face. “My letters,” he murmured, then his voice rose in anger. “I am a fool. I should have known. I did know, but I lied to myself telling myself they were fine. Fool!”

  The elves all took one more step backwards, waiting for Mage to attack.

  Mage shook his head. He saw the elves as if for the first time and chuckled, which turned into a laugh.

  Sundaliji hissed: “I would not be laughing if I were you.”

  “I have nothing left to lose,” said Mage.

  Amaliji bellowed: “We still have your friends!”

  Mage shrugged: “I scattered many ogres across the land in places you will never be able to find them. I have many friends. You may do with those warriors as you see fit.”

  Branaliji cried once more: “Ogre, I order you, release your magic!”

  “As you wish,” he replied as he drew an imaginary portal rune under his feet and disappeared.

  ***

  “Mage!” cried everyone excitedly but they did not put away their weapons.

  Mage looked around taking in his surroundings. Looking at the people facing him, a wide smile broke across his face.

  “My favorite students,” he said as he wiped his face with a sleeve.

  “Have you been crying?” asked Grum. “You are that happy to see us?”

  “Alas, dear Grum, those were not tears of joy,” answered Mage.

  Margret asked: “Are you here by the bidding of the elf king?” The pearl in her circlet glowing ominously.

  “No, Princess,” answered Mage. “If you have not already been able to tell with your circlet, I am here of my own volition. I have severed ties with the elves. Or rather, they no longer have any hold over me so there was no reason for me to stay.”

  Margret put a hand to her mouth realizing everything that had happened to Mage at once. “I am sorry, Mage.” She touched his shoulder respectfully. “My deepest condolences for your losses.”

  “I am fine, princess, you need not worry about me,” said Mage. “I always sensed the truth but refused to believe it.”

  Margret nodded. “I know we have been on opposing sides, but I always sensed that you were with the elves against your will,” she said.

  “Tis true, princess. And now the elves no longer have any leverage over me. Like the ogre mercenaries of old, I am a Mage-for-hire.”

  Farling grunted. “I am sure we may find work for you,” he said. “Your skills will be in high demand here, either training us or training the Sorceress.”

  “An acceptable proposition,” said Mage.

  “Are you hungry, Mage?” asked Grum. “Because I am sure Arastead or Farling have some food left over in their picnic baskets that they would be willing to share with you.”

  CHAPTER 41

  The Sorceress Revealed

  Queen Astrid woke.

  Instinctively her hand reached for the sword that lay on her bedside table. But when she realized she was safe, she let go.

  Sitting up, she realized the reason she had woke was because it was cold in her room. The fire in her fireplace had burned low to the point that there were no flames.

  Gathering her duvet about her shoulders, she walked over to her fireplace and inspected the fire.

  Grabbing the iron poker, she pushed around the coals seeing if there was still any chance the coals would ignite any logs. She blew on the coals and the coals went from a dark red to a lighter red. She felt heat emanating off the coals.

  She figured that the coals still had enough heat in them to ignite some logs, so she grabbed some logs from the basket beside the fireplace and put them on the coals.

  “This is not easy to do when you are as pregnant as I am,” she said to no one in particular.

  She looked at the fire but saw no flames.

  Slightly discouraged, she awkwardly bent over again to blow on the coals. But still, no flames appeared.

  Astrid did not want to admit defeat. And she did not want to call for help. When she was a little girl, she used to build fires in the woods near where she had grown up. She had always enjoyed staring into the flames, mesmerized by the dancing lights. Her mother, however, had not enjoyed how dirty Astrid would get on those little adventures, but would not scold her. Instead, she would merely sigh, explain how it was not how a lady of Aarlund was to act, and would then have the servants draw a hot bath.

  After a few more wasted breaths on the coals, she sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace. She wrapped the duvet more closely around her shoulders as she watched her breath mist in front of her face.

  She stared at the coals. Suddenly, an idea appeared in her mind. If she wanted to start a fire, she merely had to will it, she had to imagine flames appearing under the logs, and the flames growing larger and larger.

  She stared at the coals and feeling oddly confident, she breathed deeply and willed flames to spring forth from the coals.

  Astrid cried aloud in surprise as flames had suddenly appeared and now the fire roared contentedly.

  “How did I do that?” she asked aloud. “That was magic. I have never wielded magic before. What is happening to me?”

  And she stared into the dancing flames and watched as images of the Midgard Serpent chewing the roots of Yggdrasil appeared to her, unbidden.

  Epilogue

  The young assassin initiate was late. He hurried down the empty halls that ran deep underground until he found the large chamber room. Here, all the other assassins of the Black Hand had gathered. The young assassin found a place at the back just in time as the master of the assassins guild walked to the podium.

  The master raised his hands above his head signaling for quiet. Instantly, the room was silent.

  He said: “The Black Hand is as old as Yggdrasil, as old as the Midgard Serpent. For as long as there has been life, there has been death. The Norns may weave the Tapestry but often, when it is time to wield the scissors, it is us, brothers and sisters, who cut the string.”

  The crowd of assassins cheered.

  “The Black Hand has been silent for centuries,” he continued, “as our services are for sale only to a select few so that we could survive. For we had only one job to do this whole time we have been silent. And for that job we have been paid well. We have trained in silence, brothers and sisters, we have waited for this time.”

  “It was this guild that was formed when it was most needed. When
times were most dire, when times were most harsh, it was this guild that ended the fear and brought the light back onto the people of this realm.”

  “Brothers and sisters, we are needed once again. For the realm will once again be under a cloud of fear. We must stop that from happening.”

  The crowd of assassins cheered.

  “Brothers and sisters, we are needed. We may keep to the shadows but it is us who ensure that the sun will rise. For when the Black Hand has its prey in its grasp, it does not let go.”

  “And now the wait is over. Finally, after all these centuries, our prey has emerged. And what is our prey?”

  And the master raised his hands high above his head as the crowd of assassins cheered just one word repeatedly until the young assassin initiate had to cover his ears to block the sound.

  He tugged the sleeve of one of the older initiates.

  “Older brother, what word are they chanting?”

  “It is the word of our existence. It is our prey.”

  “Yes, but what is the name of our prey? I cannot make it out.”

  “The Abomination.”

  –End–

  Read RECKONING OF ASGARD, the final story in THE SORCERESS AND THE NORNS epic fantasy adventure!