by Zach Ellenberger
The glow of the Northern Lights illuminated the night sky. The Valkyries had arrived to claim the souls of Magnus’s fallen brothers who had been slain in the valley earlier that day. Knowing the gods were present, Magnus communed with them, consulted them for their wisdom in hopes to heed their counsel. Magnus felt the call of the Norns singing out, warning him that his fate was near. In these troubled times, war had come to his village in the north mountain, born from a darkness which engulfed the land from the southeast. The Goth warlord, Orm Ingersson, brought the darkness as he raided village after village across the country in his name with a growing army of ravagers. Orm turned his eye to the mountain in the highlands of the Scandinavian Mountains on which Magnus’s village resided. Magnus’s village was the latest in Orm’s conquest of northern Scandinavia. Now, Magnus’s people were scattered among the mountain, driven from their home by invaders, lost in the wild after their leader, Jarl Sven, had been killed in battle. Magnus’s sister and wife to the Jarl, Ilva the Shieldmaiden, had been taken captive by Orm, an act which Magnus perceived to be an insult. In the presence of the gods, Magnus swore a blood vengeance against Orm for his actions. He vowed to see his enemy fall to their knees before death should take him.
As the sun rose above the horizon, the village lawgiver, Sigrid, approached Magnus on the mountain cliffs.
“The villagers have all taken refuge inside the caves. It took all night but they are safe from Orm’s men.”
Magnus’s sight remained fixed on the approaching dawn as he stood over the smoldering campfire.
“What wisdom do the gods bestow this morning?” Sigrid asked.
“None. The gods have forsaken these lands. It seems we must see to our own if we are to survive.”
“The villagers make do with what the forest provides in sustenance. This mountain is their home; they know it better than these invaders. We can survive if we remain out of sight and in the forest. After all, the wilderness provided for you in your exile, did it not?”
“I am but one man. The raiders will not stop hunting us.”
“The summer months are ending. The harvest approaches and winter will be upon us. They cannot campaign through the winter; they’ll be forced to return home to tend to their own.”
“If the raiders do not kill us by then, the winter surely will. The entire village cannot survive the winter in these woods.”
“Our warriors number few,” Sigrid explained. “There are barely enough of us to mount a defense, much less an attack. Orm musters the strength of the Goths in the east. The Sami in the north turn their backs to us. The Jutes in the south pay tribute to Orm. We are surrounded on all sides. There is no hope of surviving if we fight. What would you have us do?”
Without answering, Magnus turned and descended the cliffs. The village took refuge in a cluster of caves deep within the forest that provided shelter for everyone. Several warriors stood guard at the entrance arguing with one another. The warriors grew calm and endeared when they caught sight of Magnus drawing near. Though their spirits had been laid low after their previous defeat, Magnus induced a sense of confidence and bravery in others that had fought with him. The battered warriors gathered at his presence waiting to hear from Magnus. But Magnus remained silent and strode past them. One of the warriors, Wulfrig, called out to him.
“Where do you go, Magnus?”
“To retrieve my sister, your jarl’s wife. Will you join me?”
“Are you mad?” he asked. “she’s likely dead already. I won’t go and get myself killed.”
“Listen to him, Magnus,” warned Sigrid. “Orm is not the type of man to keep prisoners. I am sorry, but if Orm took her prisoner she is likely dead already. We cannot abandon the villagers to pursue our deaths. We are terribly outnumbered. He keeps the company of his sworn men at all times. You are but one man. How do you plan to get your hands on him?”
Magnus thought to himself for a moment.
“Orm is a prideful man. I will appeal to his pride. Orm now sits comfortably in your Jarl’s hall relishing in his victory with my sister as his captive. Time gives him the chance to plan his next move and prepare for an attack. He must not have time to prepare. If there’s any chance I can get her back, I will take it. Orm will pay for his insult.”
Another warrior, Brodi, spoke in Magnus’s favor.
“Magnus is right. The longer we wait is the more time we give them to prepare. If Ylva yet lives, then we must save her.”
“Our duty is to the village and those who are still alive,” Sigrid snapped. “We will not join you on your quest for death.”
“Then may you live to die of old age.”
Magnus walked off into the forest without speaking another word.
In the village, Orm and his men supped in the great hall in celebration of their victorious raid. Orm sat in the jarl’s throne at the head of the long table with his drinking horn filled to the brim in one hand and Jarl Sven’s severed head in the other hand.
“Let us give our thanks to Jarl Sven for this feast and the hospitality of his hall. I don’t suspect the young sprite will have a need for it, will you?”
His warriors laughed and cheered as he shook the jarl’s head in the air.
“Odin must surely smile upon me, for I have sent many warriors to his halls. Who next shall refuse the reign of King Orm? Let them be brave enough to step forward and challenge me.”
The celebration was now in its second day. The few villagers that did survive the raid were now slaves to Orm’s men. The women served them food and wine while begging to be spared from their lustful advances. The few village men that remained were nailed to the walls and used as targets for their bows and throwing axes. But Ylva remained at Orm’s side, bloodied and bruised. She remained tied to his chair by the neck with her hands bound behind her. Outside the halls, Thor’s hammer rang in the distance signaling the oncoming storm brewing in the mountain forest. Orm believed that Thor was striking his hammer in celebration of his victory. But in truth, the thunder was masking the attacks being made on Orm’s guards patrolling the wilderness around the village. One by one, his scouts were being felled by arrows from a mysterious figure lurking in the depths of the forest.
Meanwhile, the door to the great hall flung open and in walked one of Orm’s guards, Feodor. Feodor marched directly to Orm’s side.
“My lord, I must speak with you,” he demanded.
“What do you want?”
“Some of our scouts around the village were found dead,” he informed Orm. “They were picked off by archers in the forest. It seems our enemy is poised to attack.”
Orm slammed his drinking horn to the floor and stood up.
“My warriors, battle calls to us,” he shouted. “Make ready and steel yourselves.”
Outside the mountain cave, Sigrid gathered with the village warriors. They sat in frustrated silence until Brodi spoke up.
“This doesn’t feel right. We should have gone with him.”
“Keep your words to yourself,” Sigrid responded. “The village is your duty. You owe no loyalty to an exile.”
“He fights for the honor of our village even after being casted out by its people,” Brodi argued.
“He fights for himself, to save himself from the shame he still carries. He killed a man in cold blood long ago to earn that exile. It was Ylva who saved their family honor by marrying the new jarl and bringing peace between the clans.”
“Even so, he chooses to fight even when there is no hope,” Wulfrig remarked. “His death would be worth of Valhalla.”
“His death will not give you back your home,” Sigrid pointed out. Brodi stood up and walked toward the forest.
“Where are you going?” Sigrid inquired.
“I will not die of old age,” Brodi answered. Wulfrig and the rest of the village warriors did the same, following Brodi into the forest.
Back at the village, all the raiders in the great hall grabbed the swords and axes at their sides and hurried out the door. They stepped outside only to be greeted by a lone warrior lurking among the smoldering village. It was Magnus at the center of the village, his bow over his shoulder with an axe and sword in his hands. The guards surrounding the camp’s perimeter were all dead. The brave Magnus fearlessly stared down the harrowing group of raiders who lusted for his blood. Orm stepped out ahead of the raiders still holding the head of Jarl Sven and dragging out Ylva by her arm. He belted a hearty laugh.
“So, this is the woodsman of the forest that’s been picking off my men. This single warrior has managed to do all this damage? I am impressed. You have quite a penchant for killing. I no doubt expect that you have come here to kill me to avenge your petty village and put an end to my rule. But tell me, how do you plan on getting past my men?”
“Holmgang.”
“What did you say?” Orm demanded, putting a hand to his ear with a confused look.
“You have brought insult upon my family,” shouted Magnus. “You have sacked this village, killed its jarl along with innocent people. Most importantly, you have kidnapped my sister. I claim a blood vengeance against you. I demand a holmgang. If I am victorious, your men release my sister and leave these lands.”
Orm’s confusion eased in realizing the warrior’s identity.
“Ah, I see. You must be the brother to this bitch she-wolf, the jarl’s wife. Which would make Jarl Sven here your family by marriage.”
Orm threw Sven’s head at Magnus’s feet.
“So, you wish to entertain the gods,” Orm scoffed. “I shall not deny them the chance to be entertained. But you could not truly think it so simple as to walk up to me and demand a challenge for one-on-one combat for your sister’s fate, could you? You think me so thick as to be deceived by the likes of you on this day while Thor celebrates my dominion over this village with strikes of his hammer? If holmgang is what you demand, then let it be so. But I shall leave the honor of your death to my greatest warrior who will fight in my stead, Rolf.”
Orm stepped aside and a tall, brooding warrior wearing a bearskin stepped forward. He howled at the sky like an animal, his eyes crazed with madness. Magnus tossed his bow to the ground and lifted his axe and sword ready to fight. The berserker charged wildly at Magnus wielding a massive two-handed axe. Magnus was unyielding. He blocked a heavy blow by Rolf and the raiders began cheering for his death. The thunder now grew closer with each strike. Rolf attacked incessantly driving back Magnus, but he could not break Magnus’s guard.
Eyes from the wilderness watched intently as the two men fought to the death. Magnus was patient and calculated waiting for his moment to strike. After dodging another heavy blow, Magnus saw his chance and took it. He tumbled across the ground and hacked at the backside of Rolf’s leg bringing him to one knee. While Rolf struggled to stand, Magnus slashed Rolf across the throat delivering a killing blow. The raiders fell silent as Rolfe’s body limped lifeless to the ground.
The smile on Orm’s face faded and turned to anger. The rain began to fall and the thunder now clapped overhead. Magnus held up his head to the sky as he started shouting.
“I am Magnus of the north mountain. I have traveled the very breadth of the world in my exile. I have witnessed the very fires that forged this cold and unforgiving earth. I have gazed upon the gods in their golden hall. I have experienced all that life and death have to offer. Before I am laid upon a burning pyre, I will kill you. With the Aesir as my witness, I call upon Vidar to grant me this vengeance, for I will have your blood this day.”
From out of the smoke and rain behind Magnus came more men. The village warriors arrived just in time to stand and fight with Magnus. Leading them onto the battlefield was Brodi.
“Vengeance!” Brodi cried out as he raised his sword. The men at his back echoed his call. Orm grew furious. He would not be defied in front of his men.
“So be it. Bring me their heads!”
The raiders charged in overwhelming numbers toward Magnus and the village warriors who formed a shield wall in preparation to receive the attack. Just as the raiders clashed with the shield wall, several village archers appeared from the village walls on both flanks and fired arrows at the unsuspecting raiders. The surprise volley dwindled their superior numbers and sent the raiders’ charge into disarray as both forces collided. The village warriors stood firmly in the shield wall, taking everything the raiders could throw at them. With the raider’s charge faltering, the village warriors advanced their battle line to cut down the raiders. Magnus trudged through the fray. He set his sights on Orm striking down anyone who stood in his path. Amidst the fight, Orm spotted Magnus striding toward him and demanded that his archers fire.
“There he is!” he shouted angrily. “Shoot him, kill that man now!”
Moving in closer, Magnus dropped his axe and sword. As the archer next to Orm knocked his arrow and pulled back, Magnus dropped to the ground and picked up his bow that he dropped earlier. The arrow loosed and Orm watched with great anticipation for the arrow to strike Magnus. But the arrow did not reach its target. Instead, Magnus snatched the arrow out of the air before it struck him and, in one swift motion, knocked it to his bow and fired it back at the archer. Before Orm could comprehend, the archer at his side fell dead. Orm suddenly found himself alone, his bodyguards scattered.
“Fine, you want a holmgang?” Orm barked unsheathing his sword and throwing Ylva to the ground. “Come, try and spill my blood if you dare.”
Orm hacked and slashed madly at Magnus hoping to kill him in a single blow. Magnus let Orm wear himself down with swing after swing of his sword. The other warriors stopped fighting once they caught sight of the duel between Magnus and Orm. With each missed attack by Orm, Magnus hacked at Orm’s flesh leaving open wounds. But Orm was not yet defeated. Desperate to turn the tide, Orm pulled out his dagger and managed to stab Magnus in his thigh. Magnus winced, but did not let the wound hinder his fighting ability. He pulled the knife out of his leg and remained ready to fight.
“See now, Woodsman,” Orm bellowed. “It is your blood that spills this day. Your pathetic little mountain rests on my land. This defiance has only earned you your death and everyone else in your village. I will hunt down every last woman and child and strike them down until not a single trace of this village is left. You shall soon join your fellow warriors in the halls of Valhalla.”
The clash of swords filled the air once more. Orm resumed his heavy attacks, using all of his power to break Magnus’s guard. Magnus limped around Orm trying to ignore the sharp pain coming from his wounded leg Magnus tried to counter Orm, but Orm bashed him in the nose with his shield knocking him backwards. Orm then lurched forward and thrusted his sword to Magnus’s gut hoping to end the duel. However, Magnus was too quick. He knocked Orm’s blow to the side and chopped off his arm above the elbow as he stumbled forward. Orm fell to his knees in shock staring at his severed limb that lay on the ground. As Orm gasped for air, Magnus untied his sister, brought her to the center and handed her his sword. Orm looked up to see Ylva standing before him clenching the grip of the sword as she thrusted it through his chest. The last thing Orm saw before dying was the face of Ylva smiling down on his corpse.
“Leave now or join your master,” Magnus ordered to the remaining raiders. At once, they all turned and ran for the forest. The village was finally free of the Goth threat.
Later that day, the villagers returned and reclaimed their homes. Though the village was destroyed, the villagers set about rebuilding it right away. A formal ceremony was held for the death of Jarl Sven. They danced and sang songs as they burned an effigy of the late Jarl. Ylva was chosen as the new Jarl of the village and ruler of the north mountain. To thank Magnus for saving the village, Ylva welcomed him back to the village and offered to share rule of the mountain as co-ruler. But Magnus refused, preferring to return to his isolation in the forest. There he would remain a spirit of the mountain watching over the village from afar.
In time, Orm’s rule fell apart and the lands were safe for now from further conflict. Ilva grew to be a just and dignified ruler. Under her rule, the north mountain flourished. The villagers honored Magnus by erecting a wooden totem in his image as a fylgjur who protected the village from evil. But one day, there is sure to be mischief abound once more in the north mountain of the highlands. When that day comes, Magnus will emerge from deep within the forest to answer the call for help. He will return to purge the land of evil under the watchful eye of the gods above.
Zach Ellenberger is a writer based in Chicago where he lives with his wife and daughter. He grew up in Pittsburgh, PA where he spent his childhood writing comic strips and short stories. After spending his formative years as a musician recording albums and performing with various bands, he graduated from Ohio University with a degree in Communications. He returned to his love of creative writing where he works in various genres including historical fiction, horror and sci-fi to name a few. Zach has published several short stories as well as his debut novel, Potato Kingdom, in 2020 and continues to develop new projects in every medium from novels to screenplays and everything in between.