by Logan Jacobs
axe into the guy’s chest for good measure.
Eira scanned the area as well until she seemed satisfied we had
eliminated the enemy, then a cold smile split her mouth, and she raised her
bloody axe up to the sky.
“For Odin!” she cheered.
“For Odin!” we all replied.
“Volrath,” Eira said as she approached me, and she raised her chin
slightly as she looked at me.
“Yes?” I asked, and my breath caught in my chest.
“Your skills are unmatched,” she praised.
“This little pup?” Hagar snorted his disapproval, but Eira shot him a
look that could have killed any regular man.
“You question this?” she hissed.
“We all know Volrath is the weakest of the band,” Hagar scoffed, and
the men around nodded their agreement.
“I see,” Eira said, and she walked around in a circle and looked at each
of the men. “You understand Rath here took out just as many men as you all
did today? Even more than some of you. And why might that be?”
As she spoke, the men shot me angry glances. I couldn’t tell her not to
praise me, but I knew it just made my brothers hate me even more.
“I’ll tell you why. It’s because Rath uses his head. Unlike some of
you.” Eira stared at Hagar, then, and I was sure I could see a large vein pop out of the man’s temple. “I am smaller than most of you men, and yet I have
made my mark as a warrior. I have defeated many Aesir and led you all to
victory many times. I am able to do this because I think instead of simply
swinging my blade wildly. You all would do well to learn a thing or two from
Rath. Then you will serve Asgard and the Allfather better.”
Hagar muttered something under his breath I didn’t catch, but Eira
simply raised an eyebrow at him, and the man looked down to the ground.
We all knew Eira was not to be trifled with, and even with Hagar’s massive
stature and impressive lineage, he wouldn’t dare to make a bold remark to
such a highly decorated warrior as Eira.
The woman made eye contact with me again, and her green eyes
appeared to crinkle slightly as she looked me up and down with an amused
smirk. It was almost as if we shared some sort of secret between the two of us
the other men weren’t in on, and that we’d never tell them.
Or maybe I was just imagining things.
“Take what is yours, my brothers,” Eira said with a small smile as she
commenced the looting that took place after we’d won a battle.
I was closer to the makeshift village then most of the men, but the
others began to run toward the houses, so I slipped into the nearest one to try
and avoid them. It was a small, dirty place, made of stone, and it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years.
I started to go through the kitchen area in search of any wares that
might bring me some coin, but just then, Hagar burst through the door of the
hut.
“You know the rules,” he sneered. “The strongest get first choice, now
get out of here.”
I shook my head, since I knew Hagar had only chosen the place
because he’d seen me go into it. It was a dump anyway, though, so I just
shrugged it off and went back outside to find a better hut to pillage.
The other men constantly looked down on me, not only because of my
different fighting style, but because I was an orphan. They knew I had no
lineage, which to them meant I wasn’t as valuable as they were. Hagar came
from a long line of council members, which was a scary thought, but it meant
he was at the top of the food chain of our little warband.
I didn’t really want to fight him, though, since that would just lead to
problems considering his status. Besides, Eira didn’t tolerate fighting
between the brothers of any sort, and the last thing I wanted was to get kicked
out of the warband.
So, I stepped out into the village and watched as my bloody and beat
up brothers filled sacks and small carriages with goods. Then I walked around the area until I found a small hut on the edge of the village. The door
was open, so I assumed it had already been looked through, but I stepped
inside anyway. The place was oddly clean, and it looked like there had been a
fire in the fireplace recently.
There wasn’t much left, but as I looked around, I found a small but
very strong piece of rope, which I shoved into my pocket. There was also a
white tunic in the corner of the room, so I moved to inspect it, but as I
grabbed the cloth, something rolled out.
I bent down to inspect the thing, but at first I wasn’t sure what it was. It
looked like some kind of dark blue, speckled ball. I picked it up, and as I
turned it in my hand, I recognized the shape.
It was an egg.
I’d seen plenty of eggs in my life, but I’d never seen one like that
before. It was huge, fit in both of my hands easily, and was clearly not from
any small bird I’d ever seen before.
“What are you?” I murmured as I inspected the egg in my hand.
Suddenly, I heard raucous laughter outside the hut, and I turned and
spotted Hagar and a couple other men shoving each other around just past the
threshold. Hagar grabbed one of the men in a headlock, and I recognized the
man as Miler, one of Hagar’s buddies. His blond hair hung down to his
shoulders in a scraggly mess, and his brown eyes always seemed to be
judging. He came from an impressive family lineage as well, so I supposed
the judgement came with the territory.
Beside the grappling duo was Hiler, Miler’s twin, and he snickered as
Hagar knocked his brother to the ground. Hiler’s hair was slightly longer than
his brother’s, but that was the only distinguishable difference between the
two of them. They were both huge, almost as big as Hagar, and they were
also just as idiotic. None of the three were anything spectacular when it came
to brains, their only redeeming quality was they were the first on the front
line of battle.
Though, whether it was stupidity or courage, I couldn’t be sure.
Before the trio could spot me in the hut, I quickly wrapped the large
egg in the white tunic it had rolled out of. It was too large for my pocket, and
I didn’t want to risk dropping it or having one of the men try to take it for
their own.
After I secured the egg, I glanced outside to make sure Hagar and his
friends were too busy shoving each other around to notice me, and then I
slipped out the door of the hut and started back toward my own home. There
was no point in poking around the rest of the village now, since the men in
my warband never left much behind, and from the looks of it, they’d already
hit every house in the village. My brothers carried large sacks or pulled wagons back to Asgard City and up toward the castle of Odin. Most of them
lived within the city there, but I parted ways with them and made my way to
the outskirts of the city where I’d made my home.
As I walked along the hillside, I admired the beautiful scenery around
me. The grass was so incredibly green, and the mountainsides and rocks so
perfectly sculpted, that it sometimes seemed as if I was in a painting. I often
felt I alone saw the beauty in Asgard my fellow Aesir overlooked, and I
attributed it to my being an orphan and my inability to take things for granted
the way others did.
Each day was a gift to me, and every minute I was able to live and
thrive was something I wouldn’t waste, unlike my brothers who often drank
themselves to sleep each night at the pub recounting battle stories or picking
new fights among one another to see who would be crowned the king of the
pack. I enjoyed a good pint of mead, that was true, and I’d found myself
intoxicated on more than one occasion, but I didn’t care for the unnecessary
fighting or recounting of tales of bravery. True heroes didn’t need to brag in
my opinion, though I knew this notion wasn’t shared among the men in my
warband. The more war stories you had, the braver you seemed, and the more
women you could convince to slide into your bed. It often seemed like all
they cared about was drinking, women, and war.
All good things to care about, but it didn’t leave much time to enjoy
the simpler things in life, either. I wanted more out of my saga than just those
simple feats, but then again, I had to work for things they never did.
I followed my makeshift path that led through some trees and to the
clearing where my home was. I’d built the small place myself, it was no more
than a stone building with four walls, but I didn’t need much aside from that.
The real spectacle of the place was the garden I had put so much time into.
Since I usually didn’t get the greatest of loot from my warband quests, I often
didn’t have the coin to buy food directly from the market, which left me to
grow my own.
I didn’t mind, though, since I liked my garden and the small amount of
peace it provided me. I had several fruit trees in my small yard that had
grown large over the years, and I could trap or hunt from my porch many of
the animals who came to steal from them throughout the season. Sometimes,
I’d bring the excess vegetables or meat down to the market and sell them
myself, but usually I didn’t mind just sharing with the wildlife.
I had another section set out with different vegetables, and I stopped
there before I made my way into my home. I pulled some cabbage and
potatoes to cook along with the egg I’d found today, and I grabbed some
pumpkin to make for dessert.
My hut was exactly as I’d left it that morning. The light of late
afternoon shone through the window above my kitchen sink, but I lit some lanterns as well before I threw some firewood under the metal slab I used to
cook and lit the fire. The stove was nothing fancy compared to what some of
the Aesir had in their homes, but I’d built it myself, and I was proud of my
efforts. Not only that, but it worked just as well as any other stove, so I didn’t
see any reason to try and improve upon it.
I set my vegetables and the egg on the stove, then I pulled the piece of
rope I’d found from my pocket and placed in a small wooden box I kept
beneath my bed.
In the box were several other trinkets and small treasures I’d gathered
throughout my warband quests. The most interesting item was a red dragon
scale almost as large as my palm. It was ancient and somewhat common, I’d
seen them around the marketplace before, but I just liked the look and feel of
the thing. It was smooth in my hand, and though it was old, it felt like it
hadn’t aged at all, since it was still incredibly sturdy and hard when I pinched
it between my fingers.
Dragons hadn’t been in Asgard for centuries, after the Aesir had begun
to hunt them and Odin had banished them from the realm in an attempt to
save them from extinction. Dragons were said to be bloodthirsty, which was
why they’d been hunted in the first place, but Odin had thought no animal
deserved to be obliterated from the universe. I knew dragons still existed in
other worlds, but I’d never even tried to use the Bifrost to travel somewhere else. I had no interest in going somewhere new and foreign, especially not if
it meant running into a giant, murderous beast.
I’d leave those to the giants of Jotunheim.
I didn’t know much about the other realms, but I’d heard some stories
here and there from travelers who’d come back from somewhere else. Mostly
I chalked them up to pub stories, since that’s where they were told, and the
giants grew larger every time I heard the same drunk spill out the same story
yet again.
As I looked at the dragon scale in my hand, I realized I was still filthy
from a day of fighting, so I walked over to my bathtub and pulled up the
metal that blocked the oven-heated pipe when it wasn’t being used. Once I
did so, hot water began to run into the bath with the sound of a nearby
stream. I let my hair down from its braid, then I stripped down and stepped
into the steaming water. I always enjoyed a nice, hot bath. I didn’t have many
luxuries outside of the city, but I was still hooked into Asgard’s irrigation
system, and I was grateful for the relief of the hot water on my sore muscles.
Some of my brothers often seemed uncivilized, but Asgard was quite
advanced compared to some of the worlds I’d heard stories about. We had
running and heated water, free markets where anyone could sell their wares,
and our citizens in general were well cared for by those above us.
After a long sit in the bath, I got dressed and set to work chopping my cabbage and potatoes before I threw them into a skillet on the stove to
simmer. Then I pulled a large pot from one of my cupboards and filled it with
water. I’d become rather inventive with my cooking over the years, and I
thought a boiled egg would make a good addition to some cabbage and
potatoes, especially if I left the yoke just slightly runny. That was my favorite
way to cook them, though with such a large egg, I knew I’d have to increase
the cooking time.
While the water heated up, I poured myself a pint of mead from my
homemade barrel. It wasn’t as strong as some of the stuff from the pubs, but
it had a sweet flavor from the honey I used, and I’d grown accustomed to the
taste. I especially liked a nice pint of it with dinner after a day in battle.
By the time I finished my pint of mead, the water had begun to boil.
So, I picked up the large, blue speckled egg and inspected it once more.
“You’re a strange looking thing,” I said to the egg. “I wonder where
you came from.”
I sighed and used a spoon to gently place the egg into the water.
“I wonder if you are even edible,” I laughed. “You’re probably an
orphan like me, abandoned long ago. Whoever kept you probably only did so
because of your unique coloring.”
I watched the egg as it floated to the bottom of the pot and moved
gently with the boiling of the water.
“I’ll probably crack you open to find there’s nothing there. That will be
alright, though, I’d forgive you if that was the case.”
I wasn’t sure why I was talking to the egg, but it seemed like a good
listener, so I poured myself another mead and continued on.
“Perhaps you are a magic egg,” I c
huckled as I tipped my pint glass to
the egg as it bobbed up and down in the water. “Wouldn’t that be something!
To think an egg would have more magic than myself, well, that might be
slightly disappointing. For me, at least. It would be quite the victory for such
a thing as yourself.”
I understood many Aesir in Asgard had abilities unique to them, and I
was satisfied with my life as it was, but I did envy those with magic. It was
always a trait I was simply astonished by, and one I often longed for,
especially in my youth. I thought magic could solve all my problems. As a
full-grown man, I no longer believed that to be the case, however I did still
think magic was something special and strange, and I’d love to be able to
claim some for myself.
“If you are magical, perhaps you could share some with me,” I said to
the egg with a small, amused smile, then I took another drink of my mead.
“You’re strange enough to be magical. I’ve never seen an egg quite like yourself.”
I leaned down to inspect the egg again as it danced in the bubbles of
the water. The light from the evening reflected off the egg and seemed to turn
the whole pot full of water a light, vibrant blue.
“What are you?” I shook my head and thought the mead was getting to
me.
Just as I spoke the words, the egg appeared to move of its own accord.
It lurched upward, toward the top of the pot as if moved by some force
within. The water kept a consistent boil, so I knew it couldn’t be that, but
right then I wasn’t sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me or if the egg had
seriously just moved of its own free will.
What was I thinking? An egg didn’t have free will.
I leaned forward and put my face closer to the pot, and my eyes were
glued to the speckled thing that now sat still once more, barely moving with
the bubbling of the water.
My breath seemed to stop as I stared at the egg, unblinking, and my
heart rate sped up as I waited for it to move again.
After a moment, I thought myself crazy, but just as I was about to turn
away, the egg lurched upward once more, and I was so startled I stumbled
backward and nearly spilled my whole pint onto the ground.
“Faen,” I cursed, and I stared at the pot that sat on the stove.
