Wilson's Words

“Randi! It’s father!” Len called against the questions and whispering of the crowd. He knelt closer to Bernard, trying to find any injury but found none. Bernard was breathing but only just and with each breath it got shallower and shallower. Len knew that if the Healers didn’t arrive soon it would be too late. “Father its ok, I’m here and Randi is coming too. The Healers will be here soon and take care of you. Just keep breathing.” Tears were fighting to come out but he would not let them, his hands trembled as he tried to rub some heat back into his father’s shivering body. It hurt him deep to see his father so weak and fragile, fighting for his life with every breath.
Bernard’s blood shot and glazed eyes struggled to open. “Len?”
The sound of his father’s voice being strangled by water chilled Len to his heart. “Yes father I’m here.”
“Len…take this…take it.” A feeble hand revealed a golden key attached to a leather lace around his neck. With some hidden strength Bernard snapped it off with one tug and forced it into Len’s hands. “Don’t tell anyone. No one can be trusted with it.” For a moment there was a determined and dangerous glare in his eyes which quickly closed again his strength fading just as he bent Len’s hand over the key hiding it from sight. His head jerked in a vain struggle to cough the water out of his lungs. “Take it to Conrad…tell him what’s happened…find him…warn him… Hekla Wood.”
“Father! Father! I’m here!” Randi cried out having pushed his way through the crowd towards the two on the beach. He grasped Bernard’s hands and held them close breathing on them, anything he thought would help keep his father alive. “Come on father, stay awake. Don’t go to sleep. Stay with us. The Healers will be here soon. You just got to stay awake.”
“My sons…my sons…I’m so proud…both of you…” Bernard went unconscious; his voice would not speak despite the pleas of the two brothers.
“Get out of the way! Go away! All of you! Let us through!” a strong female voice demanded as a group of Healers arrived. Some were carrying large cloth sheets and others brought a wooden stretcher. The Head Healer took a quick glance at the two brothers before sitting down at Bernard’s head. “Is he your father?”
“Yes.” Len replied. Randi merely nodded his eyes fixed upon his father’s chest and its weakening rise. Len had already tucked away the golden key within his satchel. The key at that moment was not his prime concern.
“There is a strong resemblance. Come, lift him onto the stretcher and we will see what help we can give him.” Two men stepped forward with the stretched and helped Randi lift Bernard onto it which was quickly taken away with Len and Randi following anxiously behind. The crowd looked on with sorrow as the sons accompanied their dying father. All feared the worst.

Later that evening safe and warm within the Healers large longhouse, Len and Randi nervously waited within a separate room from the ill. Neither said a word as they sat around the large hearth fire, both reflecting on how and why it had gone so wrong for them that day.
Time passed slowly for them inside that candle lit room. A few Healers entered and left through other doors that went into the kitchens or medicine rooms. Each time Randi asked for news about their father but was given nothing in return.
Luther had visited earlier after hearing the news to offer his support in anything but left having his tavern to tend to. Ragnar and Sven had also come to see if Randi was well and said they would stay with the Seadog that night to keep it under careful guard.
“Would either of you like something to eat?” a young woman offered reminding both that neither had eaten since midday.
“Could I have a little piece of meat please?” Len replied politely but remained by the fire. “How about you Randi?”
“No thanks. I don’t have the stomach for eating right now.” His voice was oddly calm and cold.
“Very well, we only have chicken stew at the moment so that will have to do. I will bring it to you shortly.”
“That will be fine thanks.” Len got up and stretched, moving his hands restlessly up and down his arms as if he was cold. He paused to look into the fire, his gaze distant with thought. “Randi…do you think father will live through this?”
The question appeared like an invisible weight upon the eldest shoulders which slumped with despair, his own eyes fixed upon the burning embers.
“I don’t know Len. We just have to trust the Healers and the Gods will give him the strength he needs. We all know that this is not the death of a warrior that our father deserves. He should be joining his fathers proudly in Valhalla not sinking into the depths of Hel’s foul Underworld through such a death as this. But…if the time is called upon his life then he can hold my sword. Maybe Odin will still accept him even if the blade isn’t his own.”
Len nodded with understanding. “Mother is going to be devastated if he doesn’t survive. Do you think she will be sad enough to join with him in death?” He was remembering his late uncle’s wife, who upon hearing the news of his death was so distraught and had thrown herself off a cliff.
“I don’t know Len. She might do, she might not. We must pray she is given no such opportunity.” The thought of loosing both parents was painful.
With the worrying conversation clearly going no where with answers and not helping either understand, Len continued to walk around the room in silence. Inspecting the pots of dried flower petals which decorated one shelf and arrived at the engraving of the Goddess Eira, who embodied the knowledge of medicine and healing. The engraving was on a small plank of precious and holy Ash wood pinned up against the south facing wall where a small table of candles were alight giving a comforting fragrance to the room.
The kitchen door opened and the girl brought some cooked chicken stew in a wooden bowl with bread on the side to eat it with. Randi eyed it for a few seconds before rubbing his arms and returned to watching the fire. Len sat down and slowly ate the stew, he was hungry but the situation was still too tense and uncertain to truly enjoy it.
Another door opened but this time Guy entered quietly and sat opposite the two brothers.
“How are you both doing?”
“Ok, we’re more concerned about how father is but none of the Healers will tell us anything.”
“All we get is blank looks. That is never a good sign.” Randi commented bluntly, his face as blank as stone. His hand caressed his silver hammer amulet tightly whilst the other used a stick to play with the embers.
“Have some hope both of you, Bernard wouldn’t let a little thing such as water force him down.” The words sounded empty, all three had seen the true extent the water had done to Bernard. His chances of a full recovery were draining by the minute. “Anyway, your father’s cart is safely stored in my workshop for tonight. But the real reason I came is to tell you what information I have gathered as to how Bernard got himself into this mess.”
“Tell us what you have found.” Randi asked in a sinister undertone.
“Well, apparently some traders claim they saw him running into the water pointing out to sea, shouting for help, that someone was drowning just outside the harbour in the deeps. There was someone there, others say they saw them too but no one could tell who it was. Bernard bravely swam out to the person, whilst others boarded a small fishing boat. Bernard reached the person first but then things got confusing as your father started calling for help himself. The people in the fishing boat knew someone was in trouble either way so rowed out as planned by the time they got there your father was floating face down in the water. It was then you two arrived to find him missing.”
“What about the person he tried to save?”
“That’s the odd part, because the fishermen in the boat looked but could not find anyone. Already there are rumours that Bernard was tricked into the rescue by a Siren. Which may explain why there is no other body in the area, others have searched below the water and around the bottom of the cliffs encase that body was caught by a current and swept away. Still they found nothing.”
“Could they have survived and got to shore by themselves?” Len suggested confused by the mysterious events.
“It is possible but some people can’t imagine it because of the clear distress they were in. No one else has come forward saying they were that person and when they reached your father there was no one else visible in need of help.”
“The miserable dog has run away that’s why. Their probably scared they will be outlawed if Father dies and we accuse him of his murder in the Althing this autumn.” Randi cursed gloomily. “I hope they have drowned because if their alive and I find them they will think drowning to be a blessing from the pain I will put them through. No law the Althing will ever make will stop me from avenging father if he dies.” His voice had become a growl of rage and pain; he stabbed angrily at the embers within the hearth breaking them into smaller and smaller pieces.
“At the moment we don’t know what has happened to that person but for now the most important thing is that your father survives. Once he is well we shall probably know more about what happened today.”
“Even if father does live he will never be the same. The water will have reduced him to the old man he is afraid of becoming.”
“What are you talking about Randi? Father will be fine once he has recovered. It will just take a few days before he can handle the farm again that’s all.”
“You don’t realise what drowning can do to a man Len!” Randi stood up abruptly and skulked away to the engraving and stared at the burning candles, his back to the other two. “Water is an element to be feared and respected. We can sail across vast expanses of it but even then we are never in full control as we are when tilling earth of feeding a fire. Why do you think the sea God Aegir is so feared amongst us sailors? Because he can cause so many deaths when you least expect it, he can turn on you at any time, day or night. Like a dog biting its master. Even God Njord can’t keep him tame enough to give us mortal’s easy passage all the time. Aegir is the one God whose will can never be tamed. I have seen his seven daughters come crashing down upon ship and man like Thor’s hammer itself; turning fit young sailors and warriors into babbling shells of themselves from being swept under them. If father lives he will never be as strong as he once was. The sea killed three of my fleet and now…is slowly claiming my father. I must have severely angered Aegir to deserve such punishment.”
“Randi, come and sit down, have some support for the work the Healers can do.” Len beckoned slowly to his brother.
Randi turned towards Len, his face gaunt and drawn. His eyes dim with hope amongst the darkness of pain. He took one last look at the engraving before taking his seat once more without a word. All three became silent, thoughts focusing their gazing into the hypnotic dance of the flames. Len and Luther shared a weak comforting smile every so often but Randi had retreated back into his mind. A short while later the door to the sick room opened.
The Head Healer had come, wiping her hands with a white cotton cloth but she shared the same signs of tiredness as they did. All three looked at her with yearning for news but all she did was place the cloth on the shelf and sit at the head of the fire.
“He’s dead isn’t he?” Randi demanded harshly, the anger and emotions finally bursting through the defensive wall he had constructed in his mind.
The Head Healer merely nodded revealing the small ceremonial dagger that was before hidden in the cloth. It was only ever used upon men who were mortally wounded or injured to send them up to Valhalla with a full warrior status. There was more honour gained in the death of a blade instead of injury or illness. No true Norseman wanted to die of old age, a straw death as it was called. For those who died weak without a weapon in their hands was sent to the Underworld where their soul would be eaten by Hel, the half corpse half woman Goddess of death. It could have only been used in two ways, to end his suffering through a stab to the chest or neck or if he was able to choose to hold whilst death claimed him.
The room instantly seemed darker as Randi let out a long mournful cry before both brothers fell into each others arms and cried. All cradled their Thor Hammer amulets, seeking some form of strength to accept the loss of a father as well as a friend.

The two brothers drank heavily that night, bitterly enjoying the mead Luther allowed them to drink free. They and another crowd of friends drank to Bernard’s memory and good health in Valhalla, the golden hall of holy warriors recruited by Odin’s Valkyrie’s. The friends that joined them agreed that night to join the brothers for Bernard’s cremation and burial set for the following evening when they journey with the body home. For now though it was all about drinking, sharing fond memories and wishing that Bernard was happy fighting alongside his forefathers even though he didn’t die a true warriors death. They drank well into the morning eventually drinking so much it became like a natural anaesthetic making all collapse where they were and sleep until midday.
Len was one of the first to stir from the deep sleep. Looking around him he noted that all but two of the women who had joined the drinking party had left. Those two were awake and already splashing cold water onto the men who lay scattered on the floors, stools and tables. He rummaged through his satchel looking for some of the dried scraps of meat Matilda, his mother, had given him the previous morning. There he came across the golden key, not stolen thankfully, and his father’s last words came haunting back. He pulled up an over turned stool and sat down to look at it. The mysterious, almost threatening, message his father left him with repeating over and over in his mind. He struggled to understand what his father had meant as well as why his father had kept such a key a secret. He was still inspecting the key itself when he realised that something was missing. There was a shallow indentation at the top end of the key. A gap that was remarkably the shape of some kind of jewel or precious stone that was now gone. For the moment he presumed it had come off when his father struggled to save the stranger which had led to his death.
“You could buy a few fine swords with that kind of gold.” Luther commented behind him making Len jump. He quickly hid the key away again, his father’s advice on not trusting anyone with it shouting in his thoughts.
Luther had made the wise decision and not drunk too much last night. So he was up and awake much better than everyone else who still lay huddled on the floor, cradling their pounding heads.
“Maybe you could but I’m not. Besides this key is special, it was my father’s until yesterday.”
“What are you going to do with it then?”
“Don’t know, try and find out what it unlocks I suppose. Mother might know about this because I have never seen it before. Father kept it a secret for some reason.”
“Knowing your luck it will just belong to his chest of clothes.”
“Knowing my luck you’re probably right friend.”
Little did Len know that the possibility of it was far from the truth for such an intricately crafted golden key.

***
The sun was just rising when the stranger finally reached the cave in the volcano’s side. His precious cargo held tight against his chest. He looked like a thief with his rags, dirt and bruises when carrying such an ornately carved wooden box. Upon the cave entrance he showed his mark and was able to pass through the many spells and enchantments set up against unwelcome visitors.
Entering the make shift hall, which was a cave with the one high backed chair and a small long table, he knelt before the high seat offering up the ash wood box to his master who lurked within shadows. His appearance was no longer rugged and worn through; he now wore a deep black suit embroidered with white thread and glass beads. His hair no longer dishevelled but tied back in a pony tail, it seemed tinged with purple against the limited candle light.
“I bring the first Bloodstone and the three bone keys as promised by the dwarves my lord.”
A pair of bony and long fingered hands took the box swiftly but gently. He opened the box and let out a long sigh of relief and awe. Carefully taking out each key in turn, marvelling at its craftsmanship, admiring the dwarven skill. He finally held a small glistening jewel in his palm. It cast blood red shades across his weary but cruel face.
“Yes, yes this is good. Very good.” Quickly placing the precious stone back within the box. “The first one is ours and your fellow brethren are currently hunting the others. Once we have all of them, bonded together with these Dreki bone keys, we will be able to over power the Aesir-gods once and for all!” he let out a loud merciless laugh which made even the stone walls of the cave shudder in fear. “Your next task is to wait here for them. Take on the guise of a hermit as before then no one will question your residence here. Tell them of my next location when they arrive and all three of you join me as swiftly as you can. So far the Aesir-gods know I am capable of murder, but they do not yet realise my true intentions. Very soon my friend, very soon the mortals will realise what it is to be ruled by a true god!”
They both laughed. A laugh full of cruelty and vengeance soon to be fulfilled.