Will of Steel

by WojakWriter

4. Blót

The silence after the shout does not last for much more than a few beats of my heart.

Tor began to chant in a deep, gravely tone, his rhythmic intonations nearly hypnotizing and having the feeling of a wild spell.

No, it doesn't have the feeling of a spell, it IS a spell. Though I wasn’t sure how, I could feel magic whipping around us in the air of the grove.

And judging from how the others scrambled to grab drums and the rest of the eclectic mix of instruments in a desperate frenzy, they must have felt it too.

The drums begin to pound in time with Tor's chant, and I couldn’t help but slap a hand on the soundboard of my new tagelharpa along with them.

Even my heart began to pound along to the beating of the drums.

The others begin to sing an echoing and almost animalistic chorus in response to Tor's vocalizations.

I very nearly broke my vow of silence to join in, but I could feel the runes on my wrist burning even as the words barely began to build in my throat.

Biting back a hiss of pain, I remained silent, but the music still bewitched me in a way I couldn't begin to tell one who had not felt it.

The grove itself seemed to join in, the trees swaying along with the song, the fire of the timbers cracking and popping in time with the drum beats.

The roar of the flames seemed itself to add another layer to the music. Though I couldn't explain it, I knew exactly when to begin drawing my bow across the strings of the harpa, and exactly what notes to play.

Beginning to drag my bow along the string in a daze, it began to thicken and cloud my mind, the music fading to a muddy background of ethereal noise.

Dark fog seemed to slither through the grass of the clearing, though none of the crowd reacted to its presence, as if it were an old friend.

Even I merely staredinto the gathering wisp, the only response seeming to be the increased frantic pace of the music. Not to ven the flames could counteract the darkness, the massive fire seemingly subdued by the thick haze.

Breathling deeply, I let the haze consume all.

---

I opened my eyes fully and found myself standing behind James and Harry, in perfect position to cover them as they advanced on the bluff they had seen movement behind.

My heart began to thud in my ears as they waved for me to push forward when they halted their advance. Without a noise, I rushed up the bluff when I heard a branch snap from over it.

Popping up into view, I aimed my rifle square in the face of the mountain goat that had wandered into our patrol.

Shaking my head and breathing a long sigh of relief, I glanced back at James and motioned an all clear.

From the sparse trees and boulders lining the mountainside, the rest of the patrol emerged from their cover.

Me, James, and Harry were just one small group among many in what was being called the Extraterrestrial Expeditionary Force.

Given how quickly the force had been thrown together, it was hardly surprising that we had formed into cliques or nationality and beliefs.

Over there by the rocks was the German Jaeger force, resting against the trees were a group of Spetsnaz from the Senezh group, and bringing up the rear were a pair of SAS members with Pathfinder training.

There were more men that were establishing a temporary base, but even this small patrol between the various operators had nearly a hundred years of training combined.

The three of us from the Canadian contingent weren't nearly the most experienced, but the snowy terrain was simply what we were best trained for.

So it fell to the three Canadian Pathfinders to take point.

I walked over to James and gave him a rough smack on the shoulder.

“All that fuss over a mountain goat, really man? I nearly blew that damn thing apart because of you.”

He laughed and slugged my plate carrier in return.

”Come on, big man, you could use the exercise. Besides, you didn’t shoot it, it’s not a big deal.”

Harry came over and crossed his arms, letting his rifle hand across his shoulder.

”Save the horseplay for home, boys. We've still got to finish up this patrol before you two can tussle in the bedsheets.”

We shared a laugh and took point once again, the others falling in behind us in a staggered line.

The route we were on carried down the mountainside and into the heavily forested valley below.

Regular UAV flights had, for whatever reason, been unable to see beneath the thick canopy, both optical and infrared photos revealed nothing.

So it was our first destination.

It took us half the day to finally reach the valley floor, and to our great surprise, there's nothing special about it.

Nothing causing some kind of interference, no special properties in the trees, just a small river and the sounds of animals.

On the way back from the short mission, the usual griping about the relatively pointless mission crops up, but it's easy to hear that it's mere venting. By the time we reached the camp, the sun had already fallen behind the cliffs.

The forest we had taken camp in was backlit by the eerie blue glow of the portal back home, even though it was miles away.

It certainly made sleeping difficult, and not to mention it fucked with our radios for some reason, but keeping watch was a bit easier with the extra light.

The camp has changed radically from when our small party had departed that morning.

Gone were the single man tents strung haphazardly between trees, and in their place stood a number of larger, 6 man tents.

Around the circumference of the camp, a shallow trench had been dug and a berm risen on the inside of it. Piles of sandbags marked watch positions, the closest thing to proper cover besides the thick trees themselves.

A number of those trees had been felled and turned into firewood or obstacles at the single entrance to the camp proper.

A pair of Danes pulled the barriers aside to let our troop pass through.

The rest of the patrol split off from me, leaving James and Harry following to the command post at the center of it all.

Pushing aside the flap and knocking on a desk set off to the side to announce our arrival, I cleared my throat.

“Sir, patrol's back. Reporting as ordered.”

The two men standing around a small table with various maps spread across it raise their eyes to meet mine, and one breaks into a smile

”Ah, the canucks are back with their team, excellent. So do tell, what did you find in this mysterious valley that got command so riled up?”

I merely shrugged at the captain, holding out my open palms helplessly.

“Found a lot of trees and a little river. A couple nice picnic spots too. Makes for a pretty good view. Otherwise, there wasn't really too much down there.”

The captain sighed and shook his head at the news. I cleared my throat again before continuing.

“Well there is some local wildlife, mountain goats for the most part. No settlements spotted though, so we should be safe from whatever got the scientists.”

That captain pinched the bridge of his nose, and his adjudant speaks up in his place.

”Gents, we're here to find the source of those attacks. The fact that we haven't means we'll need to move base again. As it is, we're uncomfortably far away from any chance of extracting to a safe zone, so going deeper isn't an outcome anybody wants.”

I shrugged again, unsure of what exactly to say in response. Fortunately, Harry stepped up to speak instead.

”We understand, warrant officer Klein. The problem is, whatever attacked them is long gone. Even the guys who have tracker skills haven't found anything on their route but paw prints. If we push further along the path that they travelled--”

Harry cut his spiel off as somebody slammed into him from behind, knocking the air out of him. A breathless SAS trooper pushed his way into the tent, shoving past the three of us Canadians and slapping down a large sheet of paper on the table, snapping off a quick salute.

”Sir! New images from a drone overflight!”

The trooper points at a section on the paper, and I peered over his shoulder as the captain's eyes widened.

I didn’t have a great view as I was looking at it from the side, but what I could see chilled my spine even as the captain began to start shouting orders.

“Full alert, now! Get everyone on the line, loaded up. I want the mortar team ready to fire the second I tell them. Move!”

Training takes over and, despite how tired I had felt from the long patrol, I found myself with new boundless energy.

I ran from the tent and threw yourself down, against the berm, looking out into the faintly illuminated forest beyond the perimeter.

Another body hits the little hill beside me, and I heard him curse in a language I couldn’t recognize.

A few minutes with nothing but the sounds of the forest pass, then the man next to me spoke quietly in a gruff voice.

”A false alarm, eh? Ah, too bad, I almost looked forward to fighting.”

I glanced over and see a veritable mountain of a man, a dark, thick beard covering his face, and a Norwegian flag on his arm. He looked me over, then gave me a toothy grin.

“Hey, you're one of those Canadians right? Heard you guys did some bad things over in Somalia. Is it true, what the reports said?”

I blinked, it taking a moment to figure out what the hell he's talking about.

Finally recalling it, I nodded. Maybe this guy wanted to give me a hard time over something I didn’t do.

He stuck out a hand, keeping the smile on his face as I slowly took it to shake.

“Torlund Alfsen, Norwegian FSK.”

A loud crackle of branches pulled me away from any kind of reply, and I returned to staring into the trees, rifle shouldered.

But there was nothing out there, save for the sound of a flock of birds fleeing the coming battle. Damn, there must be a lot of birds out there to be making that kind of racket.

Weird too, considering I hadn’t heard a peep out of them before now.

An idle thought, really just recalling a single sentence from the briefing on what the scientists had been attacked by, makes my eyes wander upwards.

Oh.

Oh no.

I felt my heart stop for a solid second after I saw it. There, beyond the leaves, a mass of black shapes and bodies blotted out the night sky. I poked Torlund and make a sluggish and shaky gesture to shush any reaction, then pointed up.

When he notices what I had seen, his eyes become wide as dinner plates, glistening in the sickly blue light of the distant portal.

He rolls on his back as I have, aiming his rifle up but is disciplined enough not to fire. They haven't seen us yet, I had thought, and had desperately hoped and prayed for.

That many, even with just sticks and stones, might be able to crush every last one of our small expedition under the weight of their bodies alone.

I could hear whispers and the faint rustling of cloth as others around the perimeter do as me and Torlund had done.

The relative stillness of the moment is broken in an instant as a single shot from a rifle rings out through the clearing.

And then hell is unleashed upon us.

The winged creatures descend in a massive black cloud of fury and violence. All around, the staccato cracks of rapid fire shots ring in the clearing, piercing through the relentless beating of wings.

Harsh cries, screams, shouts abound in the chaos, and I found myself unloading magazine after magazine into the black mass, tearing flesh from body as shots hit.

But no end is in sight. Soon it comes to my sidearm, something I had never fired in anger before.

Before long, it too has fired its last shot. I shielded my body with my hands as best I could, throwing my gaze about for something, anything I could fight with.

It feels like an eternity, but merely seconds later I had found just what I needed.

A woodcutting axe, laid up near a section of the berm reinforced with logs.

I began to swing my rifle wildly to clear the air around me for just a moment and dove to the berm, grasping the wooden pommel of the axe.

With a wild shout of savagery, I began to lay the blade about the crowded shapes around me.

They fall before me in droves, my arms burning with intense pain from the exertion. Here and there, I caught glimpses of my brothers in arms, fighting with whatever came to hand. There, one with a bayonet, or another with a shovel, a man swinging a rock, a hectic frenzy.

No more shots rang out, there were only war cries, pained screams, the dull whack of weapons on flesh, and the crack of bone and splitting wood.

As the battle became more pitched, the thudding of my heart seemed almost as a crazed war drum.

In my mind, I could hear a hazy string of words layering over one another in a hypnotic swell of incredible sound.

At a whisper in my ear, I whirled about just in time to catch one of the creatures flying at me. A simple thing to dispatch with a violent swing of the cutting axe.

I felt a warm spray on my face as my vision had gone red and blurry from, and the sweat pouring from my brow mixed in.

My lungs burnt and my body ached, but still I had fought on with my voice growing more hoarse with every savage roar.

How quick man was to become a monster.

The pitched battle soon came to resemble savage butchery more than fighting.

These winged monsters, though many in number, fell as easily to stick and blade as they did to bullets.

And so butcher I did, losing myself to the thwack of the axe, the spray of blood, and the song of death.

But finally, mercifully, it ends. Fearful trembling, sweaty, and totally exhausted in a pile of corpses.

Too tired to even feel disgusted as I fell to my knees as, I began to breathe deep and greedy breaths to smooth my burning lungs.

The war drum of my heart continued to pound on, even with the fighting long over.

And so I knelt there, in the gore drenched grass, for an eternity.

The blood began to congeal on my face and I began to become aware of throbbing and savage cuts across my body, the pain striking me like a train as tears began to creep out of my eyes.

A cool wind blows through the battlefield, stinging my wounds and sending a chill up my spine, making my trembling even more pronounced.

I still couldn't find the energy to stand, settling instead for looking around the immediate area.

Immediately, I wished I hadn't

Among the dark bodies of whatever it was that had attacked the expedition, it's all to easy to pick out the shapes of men in lighter colored fatigues.

And there are far too many of them. Numbering over half of our initial count. Around us even more of the birdlike creatures, either dead or dying.

I could feel the tears in my eyes flow more quickly when I spotted them. Two men, lying side by side in the same pattern of camouflage I wore, their berets on the floor by their sides.

I hadn’t even need to see the red leafed flags to know it was James and Harry.

A flurry of emotions flashed over me quickly. Fury that they had been killed, regret that I hadn't been alongside them fighting, sorrow at their passing. But above it all, a burning, poisonous hatred of whatever had done this.

As I knelt, covered in dried blood, tears making tracks on my face, I made a vow.

There would be no quarter given to whatever it was that had killed them.

---

Suddenly, a hand lays itself on my forehead and pushes my gaze up.

Blinking a few time, I found myself looking at Torlund, his own face covered in gore, his beard matted and eyes wild with hate.

His voice comes in a dire whisper, holding reverence and kindness in equal measure

”It's time, Anonymous.”

I blinked my eyes once more, confused by his cryptic words.

The glow of firelight behind him, there hadn't been a fire lit at the camp.

His face is clean, though covered in a sheen of sweat that makes the light dance about his forehead.

And then I snapped back to the current moment, to the grove, the ritual, Blót.

Yes, that was where I was.

My fingers throbbed, and a look shows me a series of weeping welts.

Yes, that was right, I had been playing the tagelharpa along with Tor's song, his spell. It was just a memory, that's it

He helped me to my feet and I followed him to the slowly dying bonfire.

Everyone else is standing in a circle around it, but they make room for me and Tor to join them.

Tor joins them in the chant they've carried on while he had fetched me from my recollection.

I simply waited, unable to join in the chant despite my heart longing for it. After a while, when the fire is dimming to embers, the chanting ceases and Tor begins to speak.

“Brothers, sisters, as the fire wanes, so too does our time together draw close to its end. Before we return to our servitude, we must bring this blót to a closing that will appease the gods. We have no livestock nor harvest to offer them, so instead we must each offer part of ourselves in tribute.”

He draws a long, black iron knife and lays the edge of the blade on his wrist joint

”As Odin sacrificed for his knowledge of the world and as he did for his learning of the runes, so must we sacrifice for our own gain. We sacrifice for health, for fertility, for freedom.”

With that, he draws the knife easily over the skin. He holds his wrist out, over the embers of the bonfire, and holds it there as he passes the knife to the next in the circle.

The man who takes it from him mirrors his movements before passing it along. As does the man beside him, and the man beside him, and so it carries around the fire until I’m the one to hold it in my hand.

Laying the wet edge of the blade on my wrist and licking my lips, I felt sweat prickling my scalp. Blood always made me queasy.

A glance to my right tells you that Tor is watching me, and a look around reveals that everyone has their gazes locked on me intently as well.

I gritted my teeth and hurriedly drew the knife over my wrist, wincing at the sudden pain.

As Tor and the others have done, I held my wrist over the dying remains of the fire.

The moment the first drops of my blood touch the smoldering charcoal, a rush of blazing flame leaps from the center and dazzles the circle.

Tor immediately begins singing in at a frenetic pace and the others join in.

Another spell, I could feel the air around humming with magic. The fire itself seems to dance with the music, and my heart becomes a drumbeat in time with the magical sound.

My wrist began to itch fiercely, and it takes an immense amount of concentration to not dig my nails into it and make it stop.

After a long while, the chant ceases all at once. The grove is plunged into darkness once again, though in the dim moonlight you see all that is left of the fire is merely scorched grass.

Everything else has vanished, all the logs and branches that had once stood tall seemingly vaporized.

Real magic, I shivered at the thought of it.

As the others leave the circle and sit down in ones and twos, I quickly realize the throbbing from my wrist has all but vanished.

Turning it towards myself, I brushed against it gingerly, expecting a flare of pain.

But there's nothing there. I could feel nothing but a slight indentation of a scar, not even a scab over it.

Flexing my wrist back and forth, letting the moonlight catch in the new found scar, there was no sign, except for a thin line, that I had ever spilled my own blood in sacrifice.

A look around tells me only a few others are doing the same, most seeming to have taken the strange phenomena in stride.

Tor has already disappeared from the clearing, and the instruments with him.

I looked and stared up at the moon, wondering at everything that had occurred that night. The magic in the air, the dark fog that had brought me back to the first battle, the cutting and subsequent healing of your wrist.

I began to wonder if it was wise to come here.

Slowly, I shook the thoughts from your mind and began to stand, giving a silent nod in departure, and began to follow the winding game trail back from the Everfree to Ponyville.

I tried to pry my thoughts from the frenzy of it all. To focus my thoughts on the day to come, on what chores I would need to do on the farm, on catching at least a few hours of sleep.

But my memories kept drawing me back, pressing against my mind, demanding my attention.

I don't indulge them, and after a while I found myself back at Sweet Apple Acres.

Silently sighing, I pushed open the door to my small shed I called home.

Thoughts began to whip around in my mind. Just how did Tor get that magic? Had this land changed him?

With a quick shake of my head, I cleared my mind. No, no introspection tonight, it had been a strange enough day as it was.

Instead, I lied down on the ripped up couch I had for a bed and closed my eyes. A long day was still coming tomorrow.

Author's Note:

Initially I had planned for this story to be set during the 70’s but I’ve decided to retroactively change this to the 90’s, just after the fall of the USSR.

Why? Because I felt like it, that’s why.

Comments

[AgentKorpsman]

11844658
Then how the freak did they lose?

[AgentKorpsman]

Wait did Big Mac die from the war?