“I know,” he replied. “Jormungandr[18] does. This isn’t a dragon on the hilt. It’s Jormungandr.”
“My mistake,” I replied. “One serpent is as good as the other. Either way, I’m not letting you walk away from this one.”
“I will reclaim my sword and use your skull as a drinking horn,” he said darkly.
“By the way,” I said, tauntingly. “I changed the name. I didn’t like yours so I called it Ulfrbrandr.”
“Call it whatever you want,” he replied. “In a few minutes, it will be back on my hip.”
He began climbing down the stairs that led to the wheel house, watching me warily as he approached. For my part, I just drew my sword and waited for him. Although the back deck of this boat was big, it didn’t leave us a lot of room to fight. It did mean than we had nowhere to run. You either fought or dove into the water. From the strength of the current, I didn’t think that was a very good option.
Once he was on the deck in front of me, he took his sword in a two handed grip and began to study me intently. He wasn’t as confident as he was the first time we fought, but neither was I. Reaching up, I took my Thor’s Hammer out from beneath my shirt and let it fall against my chest. The big warrior looked at it with a dark frown on his face, but said nothing.
“I’d like to know your name,” I said, staring at him with a measure of anger and respect.
“Why?” he said, sighing. “We are not friends, nor shall we be.”
“Because if I kill you,” I said gravely, “I intend to tell my children the tale of the mighty warrior that bore this sword and nearly killed me.”
He looked at me with confusion on his face before answering.
“You would include me in your songs of bravery?”
“I would,” I replied. “You fight with great skill. Defeating you would be a deed worthy of song.”
“Very well,” he said, reluctantly. “You may call me Bergelmir.”
“Alright,” I said. “Shall we dance?”
He lifted his sword and saluted me, although this time I sensed no mockery in it. It was a genuine show of respect. I returned the gesture and we both began to circle, careful to watch where we stepped and never taking our eyes off of one another. Both of us were searching for an opening or any sign of weakness in our opponent’s defenses.
Bergelmir struck first, but I was ready. I saw the decision to attack in his eyes a split second before he struck. I blocked the blow in an overhead parry and knocked the blade away. Before he could react, I kicked out with my right foot and struck him in the knee. Although it wasn’t enough to break the leg, it did damage him enough to slow him down. Point for me.
He acknowledged the touch and shifted his stance to better protect his leg, then began twirling his sword in an intricate pattern. I could hear the blade slicing through the air and had little doubt of the sharpness. I circled to my left to try to stay on the same side as his injured knee, but he was ready for that.
Without warning, his blade shot forward and I parried furiously. Steel rang on steel as the two great blades collided, sending sparks into the misty air and the ring of the impact echoing off into the distance. Above us, thunder rumbled through the clouds and the air seemed to grow electric with the coming storm. I felt invigorated. I could feel the beginnings of what I could only describe as battle-lust forming. Despite myself, I was enjoying this.
“You fight well,” he said, nodding briefly.
“You too,” I replied, not taking my eyes off of him.
“It is too bad that I have to kill you,” he said, after a moment.
I chose not to answer. Instead, I decided to go on the offensive. Launching myself at him, I delivered a flurry of blows. The almost musical ringing of the clashing steel carried away on the wind as he matched me blow for blow. Each time I struck, it was as if his blade appeared in the way like magic. The music of the steel provided an audible counterpoint to the intricate dance that we weaved around each other. It was the deathly struggle of the symphony of battle.
When we separated, I stepped back and disengaged. It was both to catch my breath and to take a moment to appreciate what had just happened. This was definitely going to be one of those epic tales of battle. Losing to Bergelmir would be no dishonor. Not that I was planning on losing or anything. I wasn’t willing to go that far. However, beating him was going to be a major victory for me. Assuming that I actually could, that is. At the moment, that was still up in the air.
Bergelmir launched himself at me in a wild spiral attack that was aimed directly at my head. Instead of blocking the blow, I dove forward and rolled beneath his blade, slashing out with my own sword as I went. I scored a deep gash down his left thigh, exposing muscle and sending a spray of blood across the deck.
Bergelmir roared in pain as I rolled to my feet, bringing my sword up in a guard position. Before I expected him to, he rushed forward slashing towards my midsection as he came. He seemed to be completely ignoring the wound in his leg, but I knew that could only be shock. He would feel the pain in a few moments. I blocked the blow, but it drove me back against the railing.
When I felt the metal rail dig into my back, it distracted me for just a moment. That was the only opening that he needed and he capitalized on it. Driving his huge fist into my face, I felt the bones of my nose crunch beneath his knuckles and the sudden spurt of blood as it ran down my chin and onto my chest. The force of the blow had me seeing stars and my head was swimming. My vision blurred as tears formed in my eye.
Before I could shake it off, I felt a searing pain as his sword bit into the flesh of my abdomen, slicing a gash just above my left hip and ending right at my ribcage. I couldn’t tell how deep it was, but it was bleeding profusely. I lashed out in desperation and drove the hilt of my sword into his throat. I heard him gasping for breath as he stumbled back away from me.
Shaking my head to clear it, I blinked several times to try to regain focus in my eye. I could now see that Bergelmir was holding his throat with his left hand and gasping for air. His face was far bluer than it had been before. Although his right hand still clutched the hilt of his sword, the tip was on the deck. I had landed a far better blow than I had thought.
I was facing the back of the boat and began to realize that I was looking at trees, not the river. We were sideways in the water. Turning quickly to my left, I could see that we were indeed drifting sideways and less than a dozen yards from a bridge pylon. The current was very strong and we were moving far too fast for us to stop in time.
I turned to shout a warning to Bergelmir, but he was already coming at me. His weapon was poised to cut me in half. I had no choice but to parry the blow and hope that he saw what was happening before it was too late. It was a vain hope. His eyes were focused only on the kill. He would see nothing else until it was too late.
Our swords smashed together and it became a contest of strength. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have been close. However, this time I was very well motivated to get past him and into the wheelhouse. I twisted my hip and used his superior strength against him and rolled him off to the side. Before I could head for the stairs, he was swinging a vicious backslash aimed at my neck. Needless to say, I had to parry it.
Steel rang out in protest again as I deflected the blow upwards, allowing it to pass harmlessly over my head. Using the hilt of my sword like the rib-splitter on a riot baton, I drove it into his exposed flank and heard the whoosh of air as he gasped out in sudden pain. It wasn’t the best shot in the world, but it was effective.
I started to disengage when I saw that the pylon was only a few feet away. We were going to hit. I did the only thing that I could. I grabbed the nearest railing and held on for dear life. When Bergelmir saw what I was doing, his eyes grew wide and he spun around just in time to see us ram right into the concrete pylon.
The boat struck with a resounding boom, followed by the crunching sound of fiberglass. I had no way of knowing how badly we were damaged, but I knew that it couldn’t be
good. I just hoped that we weren’t taking on water or we would soon be on our way to the bottom of the Mighty Missouri, like so many countless river boats had in years gone by. The Missouri is a dangerous and unforgiving river.
The sheer power of the current continued to pull against the bow of the boat and I felt us being turned around and away from the pylon. I could hear the hull groaning in protest as we rolled around the concrete and were dragged farther down the river. The boat violently shuddered before we were stripped clear of the bridge and began spinning around in circles as we were swept away.
Bergelmir was getting slowly to his feet as I began to release my death grip from the railing. The boat was already beginning to list to one side, so I knew that we were taking on water. It might take hours or it might only be minutes, but this boat was going to sink. The deck was pitched at about a 40 degree angle as I tried to reach the door to the cabin. I needed to grab my gear so that I could get off of this boat before it dragged me down with it. Bergelmir had other plans.
Before I had taken more than three steps, he launched himself at me again. I managed to parry the blow and keep my footing, but the listing was growing worse by the second. We were taking on water faster than I had thought and we only had minutes to abandon ship before we would be in the frigid water.
“We have to get off of this boat before it sinks,” I yelled, holding his sword against my own.
“There is only one way that you are getting off of this boat,” he replied.
“We’ll both die if we stay here,” I countered, shoving his blade away from mine.
“So be it,” he said, launching another attack.
This time, he came close to slicing through my neck, but I managed to leap back at the last second. He lost his footing and stumbled. Instead of capitalizing on the misstep, I dove inside the cabin and began frantically grabbing my gear. I took just a moment to shove several bottles of expensive alcohol into my bag. There was no sense in letting it go to the bottom of the river.
As I turned to head for the door, Bergelmir came in and blocked my exit. I brought my sword up to defend and he lunged at me. I knocked the blow aside and leapt over a foot stool that was sliding towards me. I could see the muddy waters of the river were lapping at the porthole behind Bergelmir. We didn’t have much time left.
While I fought to maintain my footing as the deck continued to list, Bergelmir started to advance towards me. Before he had taken three steps, the gigantic liquor cabinet broke loose from its mounting and fell on him with a massive crash. It drove him to the ground with tremendous force and pinned him to the deck. He wasn’t moving and I could see that odd bluish blood seeping from a laceration on his right temple. He was out cold.
“Fuck you, then,” I snapped and headed out the door.
Yanking open the emergency locker, I pulled out an inflatable raft and yanked the cord. It began to hiss and inflate in a flurry of orange rubber. In seconds, it was filled and ready. Since the water was now nearly up to the starboard rail, I tossed the raft into the water and began throwing my gear and weapons into it. When I had grabbed all of my stuff, I shrugged and tossed in Bergelmir’s gear, as well. There wasn’t any point in letting it go to waste at the bottom of the river.
Just as I started to step into the raft and make my escape from the sinking yacht, I had a sudden attack of conscience. No matter how much I wanted him dead, I couldn’t leave him to drown like that. Trapped and unable to at least try to save himself. There would be no honor in that victory. In fact, I wouldn’t be able to truly call it a victory. It was winning by chance.
“Damn it,” I hissed and quickly tied the raft to the railing.
I had to fight my way back up the deck to the cabin door and pull myself inside. Bergelmir was right where I left him, still out cold. Thinking quickly, I grabbed a piece of a broken table and shoved it under the cabinet. Then I used it like a lever to pry it up and off of him. When it was up enough that I could get him out, I wedged the board onto the foot stool that had nearly tripped me and reached for Bergelmir.
I dragged him out with supreme effort and got him clear of the trap. I briefly considered leaving him to fend for himself, but he was still out cold. With a frown and a shake of my head, I grabbed his arm and pulled him up and onto my shoulders. He was heavier than I had anticipated and I nearly fell to the ground. Only adrenalin kept me moving. As an afterthought, I snagged his fallen sword on my way to the door.
Going out the door was easier than coming in, so I stumbled back to the raft and tossed him in. He landed in a heap between the seats and lay there, still unconscious. I gave the magnificent yacht one last look before stepping into the raft and untying the line. I shoved away and began paddling as fast as I could to get clear of the boat.
I had made it no more than ten yards or so, when she capsized and vanished into the churning water of the Missouri. In seconds, all traces of her were gone. I was in a rubber raft with all that was left of a million dollar pleasure boat, stranded with someone who would most-likely try to kill me when he wakes up.
What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter Twelve
Gateway
“Sic Vis Pacem, Para Bellum".
("If you want peace, prepare for war")
- Flavius Vegetius Renatus
As much as I was looking forward to fighting Bergelmir when he woke up, I decided it was probably a better idea to leave him somewhere. Yeah, that was sarcasm. I really didn’t look forward to fighting him, now or any other time. However, I just couldn’t bring myself to kill him while he was unconscious. Although it would definitely be easier, there was no honor in it. I knew we would meet again, and we would finish what we had started then. Until then, I had other things on my plate.
About a hundred yards downstream, I could see a massive gravel bar in the middle of the river. I could tell that it had been there for a long time, since it had grown up with weeds and trees. I guess that it was technically an island, but it was in the middle of a river. In my mind, that made it a gravel bar. It was also a place that he would have a difficult time getting clear of. If I left him there, I would have one Hel of a head start.
I angled my paddle and caught the current, propelling us right towards the big gravel bar. It took me a few minutes to get clear of the strong current in the channel, but once I was in the eddy on the back side of the island it was easy to slide up onto the gravel beach. I slipped over the edge and into about waist deep water, then waded to shore to pull the boat the rest of the way onto the rocks. Bergelmir was still out cold.
Once I was sure that the boat was not going to drift away, I reached in to grab Bergelmir and pulled him up onto my shoulders. I grunted with the effort, since he weighed a ton. It felt like I was carrying an elephant and I stumbled under the heavy burden. I continued on away from the shore until I was a safe distance away from the water’s edge. I gently lowered him to the ground and sat him against a tree. Blowing out a massive sigh from the exertion, I headed back over to the boat.
I grabbed his gear and sat it on the ground beside him. I briefly considered keeping his weapons, but decided against it. I wouldn’t leave him out here unarmed and unable to defend himself. Sure, it might get me killed later, but I was going to have to accept that. I couldn’t justify taking his gear when I didn’t really beat him. He lost to a liquor cabinet. However, leaving his gear for him didn’t mean I was going to make things easy on him.
Taking a length of para-cord from my bag, I tied his hands together with enough to pull a truck out of the mud. I repeated the process for his ankles, as well. He was going to have a difficult time getting free from that. Then, almost as an afterthought, I took a long piece of it and tied him to the tree. He wasn’t going anywhere for a while, even after he woke up.
In his pack, I found extra ammunition for his weapons as well as the signal horn that I had heard piercing the night. It was ornately crafted from a large bull’s horn and covered with combination runes. Some of them I re
cognized, while others were in configurations that I had never seen before. The leather thong that was tied to it was braided with silver beads and feathers. It was really a remarkable piece of work.
I was sorely tempted to keep it, but thought better of it. Not only because I had no idea how to play it, but because it also felt cold in my hands. There was something about it that felt dark and almost sinister. I just couldn’t quite bring myself to put it to my mouth to try to sound it. That odd feeling in the pit of my stomach was warning me that I was messing with something I didn’t fully understand. Whatever it was, I decided to put it back in the pack where I found it. It was probably for the best anyway.
Setting the pack just out of Bergelmir’s reach, I started to walk away when my eyes fell on his sword. I briefly considered taking it just as I had taken his other sword, but I reconsidered. I had beaten him to take the sword that I now claimed as my own. I hadn’t beaten him to claim the second one. No, this time it would be best to leave the sword. It could serve as a constant reminder that I could have killed him, but chose not to. Let him try to figure that one out. Odin knows that I still am.
I picked up the obsidian blade and examined it closely. The runes that were etched into this blade were almost invisible in the gleaming dark metal, except when the light struck it just right. It was dark and terrible in its beauty. This blade was magnificent and just radiated sheer power. This was a weapon that could inspire legends, but then again so was mine. I’m sure that we would still yet have to find out which one of us would be telling that tale.
With a snap of the wrist, I spun the sword around almost effortlessly and listened to it whistle through the air. It was perfectly balanced and fit my hand comfortably. That in and of itself was odd, considering how much larger Bergelmir was compared to me. If it was as balanced and perfect in his hand, then whoever had forged it had really known what they were doing.
I passed it around and through the air a few times, before snapping it over and driving the blade into the soft soil between Bergelmir’s legs. I wanted it to be the first thing that he saw when he regained consciousness and get the message that I intended for him to get. The sword would indicate clearly that not only could I have killed him with it; I could have chosen to take the sword. I wanted him to know that he was only alive because I chose to let him.
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