"What does salutations mean? What sort of insult did this man use?" growled Magnus.
"He was saying hello, you smelly idiot!" said Aesa.
"Walk a little closer to my sword sloven bitch and I will teach you what Solon learned about insulting Magnus Thorsen!" he said.
"Shut up fools! Was that the last of them?" asked Isgerd.
A symbol of an intricately carved knot appeared, blackened and inverted on Magnus's arm, identical to the symbol Magnus sliced in half moments ago, worn by the leader of the Womars.
"Witch! What foul hex have you placed on me?" asked Magnus.
"That would be your body odor Magnus and it comes natural for you," said Hildagunn.
Magnus smiled. "You did not complain about my scent last night when I bedded you wench," he said.
Aesa had slipped in behind Hildagunn and held a sharp knife to her throat. "Magnus belongs to me. Go back to sleeping with the Pukje or I will put you to sleep forever," Aesa hissed.
"Enough! There are nine other sigils, which means there are nine other villages to slaughter before we can go home," said Sigurd. His fierce blue eyes beat the rest of the war clan into silence.
"My man is right as always, loot the bodies and let's leave this place. It stinks of Welkin wine and cowardice," said Kara.
Eighty-seven villagers, young and old, male and female lie dead where they were slain. They had no weapons or armor to take, only some books of poetry and rhetoric, all written in an ancient form of Welkin. Aesa wrote her name in one in blood and laughing tossed it on the ground. The comitatus rushed off, eager to hear the death-cries of the next village.
******
Soon after embracing the Crystal statue of Athena, The Chosen Ones found Isgerd. She smiled and waved at her kin. Aesa and Kara giggled, waving back.
"There's a village beyond the next ridge. It looks like fun. I bet they like company, " said Isgerd. There was pure joy in her voice.
"I''ll take the lead. I would feel terrible if anything dangerous were to sneak up on the rest of you, "said Poksok.
"Wonderful! Poksok, would you mind if I accompanied you on point?" asked Magnus.
"I think it would be a great honor to have you by my side," said Poksok.
"This forest reminds me of my childhood. I hope the villagers are friendly. It has been a long time since I held a circle ritual with humans," said Doskev.
The kin meandered down the path through the forest, often arm and arm as if it were dance night in the meadhall back in Norgard. Hildagunn sang a winsome tune they all sang as children. Soon they all joined in, whistling or humming when they didn't remember the words and laughing throughout. Doskev and Poksok joined in even though they didn't know the words, which brought another wave of laughter from the group.
They arrived at the village but no sentries came to meet them. A group of children dressed in bright but simple clothing laced with bright feathers raced up to them, touched them and then ran off whooping back to their hiding places. The village homes were constructed of light poles and covered with thatched reeds in cylindrical shapes. A central fire burned cheerfully and the smells of roasted meat and baked pies rose up reminding them that it had been a while since they'd eaten a meal.
Most of the villagers were small, fair skinned, fair haired with almond shaped eyes. As they approached a much larger figure came to greet them. He was as tall as Magnus and his eyes were violet with no visible pupils. He smiled, extending his hand in friendship, speaking an ancient form of Welkin that took Aesa a moment to recognize. Hildagunn spoke the words, "Graphr Hradur" and they were able to understand each other.
"Greetings travelers! My name is Rhi Twenty-three. Welcome to the village of Han," said the tall man with violet eyes.
"Well met Rhi Twenty-Three! We are kin from a northern land and our friends whom we've met on our journey. It would be very generous of you to share your fire with strangers," said Isgerd.
"There are no strangers, only friends we have yet to know. Please join me. We are about to feast. I trust you brought your appetites?" he said.
"I'm hungry!" said Magnus. The girls laughed.
They sat in a circle around the fire. The entire village of Han had joined them, eager to learn more about these new people. As they filled their stomachs, Isgerd felt obligated to share some adventure stories. She was no Olaf, but she did her best to describe their journey to Thor's tomb and how they passed through a statue of a goddess and arrived here. She did not mention Loki, whose presence she had not felt since she entered this land.
"Your journey is indeed an epic one! I cannot imagine the marvels you have witnessed. The world beyond Han seems strange and dangerous to us. We have never had to fight and do not find glory in violence, yet it appears you have taken a path the gods approve. If it pleases you, I would share with you the story of the Han," he said.
"We would be enriched by your tale," said Isgerd. Aesa giggled, not as a taunt, but because she was so eager to hear the story.
"It was handed down to me from my father as his father told it to him, may the Muses be truthful, that one day the Great Ones would come offering friendship. We would aid them and they would save us all. We do not understand this prophecy. Too much time has passed. It is told that the Han have been in this place for twenty-three generations, but this is not our homeland. I believe you are the Great Ones that our fathers mentioned," he said.
"Do you know where you came from?" she asked.
"It was a place with a great river and a castle that rivaled any mountain in grandeur and strength," he said.
"I believe I have seen such a place before we came here," said Isgerd.
"Perhaps then we will return there some day soon. Please stay with us for a few days! I will have our people prepare a home for you," he said.
"Thank you for your hospitality," she said.
"Before I escort you to your home, let me give you something," Rhi said.
Rhi lifted a sleeve showing a sigil in the shape of the sword that Sigurd carried. "I do not fully understand its purpose but my father instructed me to give it to my youngest son or to the Great Ones if they arrive. If it is to be your, it will leave me and become yours," he said.
Before Isgerd could speak the sigil left Rhi Twenty-three's arm and appeared on Sigurd's arm.
The entire village dropped to a prone position and chanted "Great Ones" in ancient Welkin.
As one, the Chosen Ones blushed, embarrassed by the honor but feeling very thankful.
They each did what they could to help the villagers of Han over the next three days and exchanged many stories. The Welkins told stories of living in peace with the Alfar, about a great hall of peace and knights who protected the forests and lands from danger. The Han shared stories of other villages and other sigils. Soon the Norgardians understood that they needed to leave this paradise and find the other sigils, for whatever purpose they served.
******
Aesa approached the next village with caution. The town's symbols, crossed swords, were scattered near on the edge of the forest. Concern that a town with military symbols may have sentries did not stop Aesa from changing one of the signs to be more phallic in nature.
Magnus slapped the back of her head with his open palm. Even this love-tap made Aesa see stars. "Jealous?" asked Aesa.
"Of your art skill?" asked Magnus. He laughed. You can't handle me. What would you do with two?" he asked.
"What makes you think I am not handling two now?" asked Aesa.
"Because the other men you have access to are as flaccid as Loki in a drinking contest with Thor."
"I am not interested in your foreplay rituals, scout that village and let's be done with this," sneered Isgerd.
Aesa padded left, Magnus headed straight to the main camp.
"It would be nice if Magnus tried to sneak up on an opponent, just once," said Sigurd.
A man with a crossed sword sigil on his forehead approached Magnus. He bowed with a sweep of his arm. "Greeting fair wanderer, I am Lendosos, town speaker. Prithee, will thou joinest the fair folk of Tyrec for draughts anon?"
"What?" asked Magnus.
"Me thinks ye mayest be simple, so simply I paint thou brow with plainest speech," said Lendosos.
A sword went through the back of the man's neck and grew by feet from his throat. Aesa has stabbed the man from behind with her blade. As Lendosos fell to his knees he appeared to try to speak words but his split larynx failed.
"Well man, get it out, I fail to grasp you." said Magnus.
"Word fail, when the sword is your pen," said Aesa. She pulled her sword free and the man fell on his face dead. Lendosos's sigil was now etched on Aesa's forehead, blackened and inverted. The village erupted in screams and panic.
"Don't listen to them, the sigil is becoming on you," said Magnus.
"Why you old softy, are you flattering me?" asked Aesa.
Magnus punched her in the arm. It took Aesa a moment to regain feeling in her arm.
Both of them dove to the ground as a massive ball of flame exploded beyond in the center of the village. Hildagunn had used her magic to obliterate the Tyrec. The heat from the blast was blistering, even near the edge of the village. The screams stopped. Vikar and Poksok picked off any survivors who emerged from the flaming hovels.
"I'm bored. How many more sigils do we need to find?" asked Aesa.
"Three. At this rate we will have them all tomorrow," said Isgerd.
"Good, I am ready to go home. Once we rule in Norgard then we take the Uppsala and the rest," said Aesa.
"Let's get the other sigils first, then your plans for rule can be considered based on their merits," said Sigurd.
Aesa balanced a dagger on her fingertip. I can give you a demonstration, if you need to see my credentials," she said.
"Just make sure, nothing escapes the village alive and report back here," he said.
Aesa looked disappointed as she meandered through the forest in search of prey. Her mood improved when she found a few survivors near a stream. She had been looking for a reason to use her blowgun. She got closer, hiding in the brush. She checked the wind conditions and coated her dart with a black jelly. She loaded the dart and puffed. The dart went into the young man's arm. He was dead before his head turned to she what had happened. The girl who was with him could have been a younger sister or a girlfriend. So hard to tell with these village sheep. The girl screamed and tried to take cover. Aesa loaded her blowgun again. The panicked girl had almost walked up on Aesa's position, so when the dart struck her, she almost feel on Aesa when she collapsed.
"I wonder if I will get a better seat in Valhalla for these two?" Aesa wondered aloud.
******
Vikar and Kara readied their bows. An incredible stag had stopped at a stream along the edge of the woods for a drink. It's rack was the width of a man. A breath before Vikar released his arrow the stag fell dead. The group looked around but saw no sign of an enemy. Kara started toward the stag but arrows pinned her boots in place. So precisely was the aim, it had missed her toes but kept her from moving them. She raised her hands to show she meant no harm.
A group of fair skinned warriors appeared from the brush. They were so well hidden that they were standing within a few feet of Aesa and Poksok who were supposed to be acting as group sentries. One of them spoke. He was using an ancient form of the Thorsen language, but they could understand most of what was said.
"We are Gordians. I am Ka'thor. We claim the stag having made first strike. Do not weep, I never miss. None have ever claimed first strike when I am on the hunt."
"Greetings Ka'Thor. You skill is unmatched," said Kara.
"Please come to our village and meet the Mother. We will feast on venison and the Mother will inspect you," said Ka'Thor.
"Inspect? I think we must have a difference in our language," said Kara.
"Come!" said Ka'Thor.
Following the group of Gordians was not easy. They ran along paths that even a seasoned tracker had trouble following. Ka'Thor was as swift as he was accurate with the bow. Soon they came to a village. It was well hidden in a valley. Tall pines rose out of the valley and a stream went through the center of the establishment. Fires cooked the day's catch, but no smoke rose from the fires. The fair-skinned people wore furs and leather breeches. Their jewelry were made of bone, claws, feathers and natural stones. Many of them work bright pigments on their face. Children and hunting dogs chased each from home to home.
Ka'Thor offered a place for them to sit in a large hall that reminded them of their meadhall, if a bit more primitive in construction. "I have sent someone to fetch our Mother. We do not have many visitors," he said.
"Is she your mother?" asked Isgerd.
"She is the Mother," replied Ka'Thor. He fondled a clay effigy of a fat pregnant woman with great reverence while he waited, indicating though motions that they should all sit and do the same.
"What is that?" asked Aesa.
"The first Mother. I am hoping my wife will have a son. This will bring luck, " said Ka'Thor.
There was no doubt who the Mother was when she arrived. A retinue of strong men and beautiful women attended her, carrying her in on a great throne of bone, and the children yipped with excitement as she entered the hall.
Her hair was very long, and wiry. She bore great age, but it was impossible to guess how old she was. Her wizened gray eyes were bright and fierce and her nose was bulbous and red. When she spoke the Gordians averted their eyes which made her cackle at the display.
"Welcome to Gordir, visitors. Help yourself to food and drink. If it is ours, it is yours!" she said.
"Why do they call you the mother?" asked Aesa.
The Mother leaned forward from her great throne like a cave bear in her furs and heavy clawed jewelry. "You have questions little one? Why indeed! We have always had a mother. You might as well ask where we come from and why we are here!" she chuffed.
Aesa started to say something but the Mother continued.
"I'll tell you! There once was a man named Da'Thor. He was no ordinary man like the menfolk in your company or these sad examples in Gordir, he was a tall and powerful. He founded the city of Gordr among a mighty, endless river with only his hands. A single swing of his mighty arm was enough to fell an ancient oak tree. Once the powerful river flooded. He bent low and filled his drinking horn, diverting the river. Then he walked to a canyon and emptied the contents, creating a mighty lake that became the port for six cities. The people from these places were so pleased they each sent him the most beautiful girl from their city to be his wife. Each wife gave him one hundred sons. We are his descendants.
Da'Thor fought many battles in his time. He refused to wear armor or shield, only covered by a modest loincloth cut from the hide of a fearsome shaman who had turned an entire village to stone. When Da'Thor killed the magician, the villagers were freed from the enchantment. The leader of the village gave Da'Thor two great swords so heavy that no other man could lift them. Da'Thor fought his battles using both of them at once. Da'Thor was mighty but he did not rule the people of Gordr. His mother ran Gordr. Her prophecies always came true. One day she told Da'Thor that the time would come soon when he would be killed in battle and all would be lost. Da'Thor assured his mother that while her visions had always been true, this time she had a fog over her eyes for no mortal could defeat him in battle. His mother said, the Norns do not paint using a brush with no hairs.
The day came when a the sky filled with darkness. The darkness was not produced by clouds or insects but an endless number of ships that flew above the waves. The land filled with hoards of enemies, jealous of Da'Thor's might, hoping to haul him down like an armies of ants pull down a praying mantis. Da'Thor fought his foes for many weeks but even he grew weary. Many of his enemies lost advantage as they had to climb the mountain of dead to get to him. However some could fly. One struck him from behind and he tumbled down the mountain of his dead foes landing in a lake of blood. The countless masses fell upon him, the sheer weight off their numbers preventing him from rising until he eventually drown in the blood of his foes."
"We worship a god named Thor. We are his children. We found a key to his tomb and have been lost in the halls of his tomb for many days. I think we speak of the same person," said Kara.
"You speak true young one. You will soon give birth to his child," said the Mother.
"How do you know this? I've only begun to suspect I was pregnant since I revived from terrible injuries after claiming the Arm of Zeus. I do not understand how it is possible," said Kara.
"The gods do the impossible. Da'Thor was once a man, although not a man like today. He no longer follows mortal laws," said the Mother.
The Mother motioned her people to step back. With effort she rose from her throne, her back cracked like acorns underfoot and then laughed. She shuffled over to Kara and motioned for her to bend low. The Mother kissed Kara on the forehead. The blue sigil on the old woman's head depicted Mjölnir, Thor's hammer. It faded from her head, went through her lips and was painted on Kara's forehead. The old woman smiled.
"There. That's better. The gods are happy." she said.
Kara looked embarrassed but was very pleased. She did not know whether to bow or hug the old woman so she did both.
"What is the purpose of the sigil?" asked Kara.
"A Mother long ago used it to leave this place and go back to where we had come from. She came to a great golden door but could go no further, so she went back to the great lady, embraced her and returned. She told us to wait, that it was not for us to go through the golden door," said the Mother.
The Chosen Ones became great friends with the Gordians. They shared stories, hunted together and each night there was a great feast with dancing and music. There was no sense of urgency to move on as they each felt at peace for the first time in many days.
One day Ka'Thor, Vikar and Kara were out hunting when they noticed a war band approaching. They hid as only Gordians could do. Ka'Thor looked at Vikar and Kara as if for the first time. Then he looked at the war band which also contained Vikar and Kara, as well as all the other members of The Chosen Ones, many of them had blackened sigils on their bodies and other war prizes. They reeked of ill omens. Kara in particular seemed in shock. Ka'Thor shook Kara from her disbelief.
"We have to get back to the village and warn the others," said Ka'Thor
Kara nodded. They ran as fast as any deer, silent as the wind and hidden from even the best tracker. A lone feather from Kara's headband fell near their hiding place, seeking to tell Gordian secrets to the dark marauders.
Aesa found the feather and smelled it. She passed it to Sigurd.
"Who does this feather smell like?" asked Aesa.
Sigurd looked confused. "That is Kara's scent. But Kara has been with me all day,"
He handed the feather to Kara. Kara smelled it.
"Wizards or gods have played games with us. I can not be in two places at once," said Kara.
"If that is true, then let's follow the scent, it will lead us to the impostor. We have the thrall Doskev. Trolls can follow a human scent for miles. We will find the little bird that left its feather and then we will cook it!" said Sigurd.
Ka'Thor, Kara and Vikar arrived at Gordir in great haste. Kara seemed surprised to see Magnus, Aesa and the others wandering the village as if they had been there all along, but she let Ka'Thor sound the warning.
"We must scatter to the woods. Spread out. There is a great danger. A dark wind has made copies of our new friends. Ill gained sigils from other villages were stained on their hides. There can be no doubt they mean to destroy us," he said.
The Gordians scrambled into action, putting out fires, sending the women, children and elderly to hiding places and leaving for defensive positions in the woods nearby.
Once Kara had confirmed with her friends and kin that some dark magic had created doubles of their group, they too prepared for battle.
A thundering boom signaled the battle had begun. Several large pines just north of The Chosen One's position were engulfed in flames. A lone scream testified friends had been lost.
Magnus bit his shield. He ran toward the burning pine trees like a bear in search of a salmon stream. The others followed as they always did. Aesa and Poksok did their best to flank the battle site. Isgerd and Hildagunn delayed, ready to assess the battle once the warriors found foes.
More Gordians gave up the ghost, carried to Valhalla by grim Valkyries thanks to the death magic of the ill-omened Hildagunn and Isgerd. Still the Gordians peppered the foul copies with arrows and thrown axes.
When Magnus reached the burning pines and smelled the burning corpses of friends he eyes filled with the red-vision of revenge. He was immediately struck with an array of foul magical energy that wracked his body with pain. His lips frothed foamy with blood. He spread his arms wide, Frosik held firm in his right hand. He laughed with joy, then spit out these words like venom.
"Kin killing kin. Ragnarok is upon us. If I fall, I will rise, lifted by warrior wings to the hall of endless mead. Foul fetches hear Magnus Thorsen, grandson of Thor, a man of Norgard...no Norn, no seid magic, no god will prevent me from getting revenge for the death of my Gordian friends. I am no Skald. I have no more words to waste on you. Frosik will speak for me now."
Magnus was not aware of Sigurd, Kara, Doskev or the others who had joined him in his rush to meet the doppelgangers. He brushed off the arrows and spears that struck him like a wet dog. He vaulted onto a fallen log and launched himself into the front line of his enemies. He wished to fight his own fetch, but the dark thing had rushed to attack Vikar.
Sigurd felt a moment of guilt as he attacked Isgerd's twin. A cold voice calmed his mind and he struck with his new crystal sword. Isgerd tried to block with her staff but power flowed through his sword and sliced through the staff as if it were twine. When his blade struck Isgerd's flesh there was no time for a scream. She simply wasn't there anymore. The dark inverted sigil she bore transferred in beautiful color in the form of a combat arena on his forearm.
The other battles ended just as fast. None of the dopplegangers possessed trollspears, Frosik, the Arm of Zeus or other weapons gained in glory by the Chosen Ones. One after another, the inverted sigils returned to their true form and transferred to the slayer. The bodies of the false Kara, Isgerd and others faded and vanished after they were killed. Only the false Magnus remained. He had disabled Poksok, Vikar and Reikov and wounded the real Magnus.
Magnus pushed the others away and faced his replica who attacked him with fierce resolve. They traded blows, each aware of the others defenses. The battle continued for tense moments as sparks and blood flew in the breeze. Magnus felt Magnus tiring and smiled, certain of glory. Then, the false Magnus fell face down without a word, his loin a bloody mess.
Aesa wiped her blade on the dead barbarian's shirt as his inverted sigil transferred to her body. "You're welcome," she said to Magnus as she walked away.