My Little Viking: Steel Is Magic

by Laarsgaard

The Death Lord

It was cold here. It was a rather familiar cold, like the cold from the forest back home. I stalked through massive trees that were just far enough apart for me to see a few hundred yards in every direction. A thin fog had settled across the forest floor. My breath misted before me as I inhaled and exhaled slowly, quietly. I was looking for something, I didn’t know what though. I continued to move slowly. In my hands I held a bow that was well worn with use, but sturdy. The wind rustled through the trees as I continued my slow walk through the forest. It looked just like the forest that was not too far from the village.

I inhaled deeply through my nostrils. The smells of the forest flooded into me. A small smile crept onto my face. This was where I was most at home. I continued my search for the forgotten thing.

A bitter wind blew up from behind me carrying with it a rancid, rotten smell. I turned on my heel and brought my bow up to bear drawing the arrow full. I stopped dead at the specter before me.

The being towered over me draped in all black and hooded. I peered up into the hood but could discern no features. Its hands were all that was visible. They were skeletal with long bone fingers that hung loosely. In its left it carried a massive and intricately carved scythe. I lowered my bow.

“Warrior.” The specter said. Its voice rang out and echoed between the trees. The bass was so deep that I felt my very soul reverberate with the power stored within the voice. I placed my bow in the quiver. I didn’t respond. The giant stared down at me unmoving.

From behind the specter stepped a horse. The horse massive as well, it stood well over my head. Its coat was the color of jet while its mane and tail shone bright luminescent white like the moon on a clear night. On the horses’ flank sat the image of a single skull that grinned out at the world eerily. The horse looked down at me with giant, red eyes that burned with controlled fury. There was something sitting behind those eyes however, something I could not make out.

“Warrior,” the specter spoke again. “I am lord of death in your world.” It stated. I nodded staring up into the abyss where the spirit’s face should have been. The massive lord gestured to the horse. “This is my steed. He has power over the realm you have found yourself.” I nodded again looking at the horse. The beast’s glare was intimidating to say the least. I looked back to the lord.

“Why appear to me?” I asked him. My situation did not seem important enough to warrant a visit from such a spirit.

“This is an odd situation you have found yourself in mortal.” The death lord began. “I come to warn you against your new realm.” I cocked an eyebrow.

“Why?” I questioned the death lord.

“The well being of your soul, mortal, has changed.” I cocked my head in confusion.

“My soul will be claimed by one of my gods someday.” I stated. The specter spoke.

“No, it will not.”

I stood for a moment unmoving, staring up into the black abyss that was the face of the death lord.

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“Your transference to your new land has moved you out of the jurisdiction of your gods.” It stated coldly.

I stared up angrily at the spirit.

“Then I’ll bring them here.” I told it. The lord shook its head.

“You can do no such thing.” It told me. I felt my anger rise.

“I brought my gods with me already!” I shouted. Again the specter shook its head.

“Your gods have no presence here and they cannot cross. Their power lies with your people. As does all of the other gods of that land.” I felt my anger rise to new heights.

“Then, what should I do?” I asked through gritted teeth. The spirit looked to its mount.

“Believe in death.” It told me simply.

My vision blurred as my hand dropped to my axe. I charged the huge lord of death my heart racing. I leapt into the air swinging my axe.

I felt a massive force slam into me knocking the air from my lungs. I stopped in about three feet off of the air my axe still in mid-swing. I cursed as I struggled in the air. My attempts failed.

I looked up at the lord of death my eyes trying to burn holes into him.

“Do not think your mind unknowable, fool. I come out of respect for you and your death to come.” He stated plainly. I stopped struggling.

“What do you know of my death?!” I demanded. The specter continued to stare down at me.

“Suffice to say, it is the glorious death that you seek.” It stated.

I stared confusedly up at the specter that claimed to be the very lord of death. I didn’t know what to think, I just wanted things to go back to the way they were. I felt energy begin to drain from my body. My eyelids began to grow heavy. I fell back into fitful sleep.

My eyes fluttered open. I sat up and threw my legs over the edge of the raised cushion. I tried to raise both of my hands to my head. I found that once again I was down a limb. I sighed and rubbed my face with my remaining hand.

I thought on what I had just learned. I thought about my death. It was already confirmed, already predicted to be true. I felt a certain calm fall over my soul. I didn’t have to search for my death anymore it was going to come to me. I placed my hand under my chin. My gods had no power here. It was a concept I could not grasp. To me the gods would not do anything men could not and the only time a man should ask his gods for help is when something is so far out of his control that he had to seek divine help. Even then actually expecting one of the gods to do something was a laughable idea at best.

I looked around for my axe. I saw it on a table not too far away from my resting place, moonlight glinting off of the steel. I stood and walked over to it and lifted it. I inspected the blade with an attention I had never given the weapon before. The steel was rather beautiful. I had had the weapon for only a few years. I had pulled it off of the corpse of some raider after we had ripped some of his brothers apart. I walked over to one of the openings in the wall.

I was surprised to see I could not feel the night air through the opening. I took my axe and tried to put it through the opening. It met resistance. I tapped the surface that kept the wind out. Rather interesting, see through yet solid.

I stared out the window until the sun came up. It still rose over what I hoped was the east. I stepped back as I heard Twilight begin walking down the stairs. I turned to see she had stopped and was staring at me. She was obviously scared of seeing me with my axe in hand. I turned back to the table and buried the blade in the wood. I turned back to look at the purple horse. She smiled nervously.

Comments

[chaorock]

2096393I'm northern Italian and Scottish. complete opposites when it comes to combat.
completely unrelated but kinda funny.

[Cloverman The Purple]

He hoped the sun rose in the west?

[Laarsgaard]

2235524
I can't believe no one has caught that yet, not even me thank you for pointing that out.