Eric meets Elkhart the First Keeper

Eric meets Elkhart the First Keeper 5011 OTT

Eric Olafson, Neo Viking Chapter 7 Erik Ragnarsson returns

To all Elkhart is the Ancient Keeper and shipmaster of the Stockholm Ark. However, he is an Aseir (Odin ) This fact is not yet revealed. However, Egill suspects it.

I reached a landing, the burg seemed only slightly closer I met another person! An old man dressed like a Lowmen only in linen and no leather or fur. He was meager looking and struggled with a load of soak stones on his back. I was more than shocked to see his bare feet. Whatever clan he belonged it must be either very poor or a ruthless clan to treat their Lowmen like that.

"Hail Old man! You came a long way with all that Soak stone ! Do you know how much further it is to those Halls?" He turned. "I am afraid this is as far as Odin lets me go, young man. I must deliver these soak stones as my lord decreed he would donate to the Faceless Seven, but I am at the end of my strength." "Judging how far you came, I say Odin blessed you with great endurance even in your advanced age. Your clan chief should have flown it up there instead of sending you! Let me help you with it. I think I still got some left in me it can't be that much further." "No one is allowed to fly up there, at least not by using off-world technology.  Everything needed by the sanctuary carried by other means.  Normally carried by those who wish the blessing of the Gods.   Although, some think it can be delegated and still receive the blessing if the gift is large enough."

"I wish I had Freya's Cloak as well Old Man!" I grabbed his sack, and it was indeed massive. It deepened my respect for the Old man to have even made it that far. He said." Thank you, young lord. I will wait here." "No, you can't wait here. If you stay too long, you will freeze to death. Your clan chief failed to equip you as well." "I can't go another step!" He collapsed to the stairs. He had his eyes closed and was breathing very shallow. He looked frailer than I realized. "Well, I guess they can live without the Soak stones for a while. We need to get you up there, fast!"

As frail as he was, he was a grown man and I was turning fourteen in three months, but he got up leaned heavily on me, and we went on. He grew heavier by the minute. He lamented about the soak stones, and the punishment he would receive for not delivering them. I did not have much breath left to answer, but I said. "Don't worry I go back and get the sack.  But you need to get inside, or all the punishment of your clan Chief is going be dished out to a corpse." While I was praying to Thor for more strength or maybe that he used his hammer to smash those cursed stairs, I dragged him on. He felt cold, and I wondered what kind of clan chief would send an old man like that on an errand of this nature. Certainly, my father would be delighted in running me up and down these stairs if he knew about them. Whenever I was thinking of my father, fear anger and a cauldron brew of emotions gave me an extra push.

I could not tell how long we had walked, but I hoped the Faceless Seven had some hot water in their kitchen and a bed somewhere as we finally reached a metal door set into a wall partially hewn out of the rock of the mountain and partially build with large square hewn boulders. Real old burgs sometimes had parts that were made like this and not out of Duro-Crete. Most of our basements, dungeons, and undercrofts used this type of construction.

The door looked massive, and there was no viewport or window anywhere. The stairs had ended in a short narrow path leading to t3he two-man high door. To the left the sheer wall of the mountain and the right the chasm downs the mountain. I could see most the meandering stairs coming up the mountainside from here. "Have you been up here before?  Is there a special ritual or way to gain entrance?"

The old man blinked. "We made it, but I am still doomed. I am here without the soak-stones! I most certainly will be flailed! Our clan Chief is easy to anger and quick with his war bludgeon!" "I gave you my word!  But first, we need to get you safe and warm.  Then I will do as I promised and go get the sack and return with it." I eased him to the ground and gave him my fur vest. The wind felt even colder, but he was all skin and bones and had even fewer defenses. I banged with my hand against the door. In doing so, I realized how thick the metal must be as it did not vibrate or make much of a sound. "No one is going to hear that!" I yelled as loud as I could, but even after seven Hellos, there was no response to my efforts.

The old man huddled into my vest and said." The Soak stones are drenched that is why the sack is so heavy.  We could borrow one or two and light a fire. They may see the fire or smoke." "Alright I try to be quick, but it will still be several hours.  Don't die on me and try to move around.  Don't stay on the ground!" "Yes, young Master. He held me by the hand." What is your name and of what clan are you?" "I am Eric, and I am of the Olafson clan."

I then left to retrieve the sack down below. I wondered what a fool's errand I was on, and why was there a door and no one to open it. While I was sure Grandfather meant well sending me here, but maybe those Seven Guys were dead and gone. Although it beat the prospect of staying at home with my stepmother and father, especially after he was set into a violent rage by Grandfather.

At first, I thought going down the stair would be effortless, but going down the icy, narrow steps turned out to be far more dangerous forcing me to go slow and careful. When I finally reached the landing where we had left the sack, my legs trembled uncontrollably and it took me long moments to get myself under control. Going up seemed almost like a blessing despite the heavy load, but then it contained life-saving warmth for me and the old man. If I remembered my local geography lesson correctly, there was a small town to the east on the Ice. How far to the burg I could only guess. If the Burg here turned out abandoned, I had to get the old man there somehow. There was no other settlement I knew of up here on the ice of the north pole of our planet.

The prospect of trekking across the ice with nothing but a sack of soak stones that would not last very long and no weapon to forage for food or defend against Fangsnappers was another form of suicide. Which for many reasons I was not happy to contemplate. I could no longer feel my legs and feet. I had no idea how I physically managed it, but I did! Upon reaching the top, I dropped the sack and looked for the old man. Great! The Old man was gone! He could have gone only one place, and that was over the edge falling to the bottom. I glared over the ledge, but as far as I could see, there was no shattered body. "Young Lord, may I ask what you are doing there, leaning so far over the dangerous ledge?" A soft voice asked. I turned, and the old man stood next to me. "I thought you fell, Old man! I brought your sack of soak stones, so you are not in trouble with anyone!   Where have you been?  There is no place to hide here." "Silly boy, There are the Halls of course. How can you overlook a Burg so big?  Yes, the door is open!"

I was exhausted and just waved at the bag. "Well, there are you precious soak-stones, and now we better get you back inside. Maybe there is someone inside able to provide you with shoes and a bed til you have to climb down again to meet that cursed clan Chief of yours." "Yes, let us go inside so you can find your bed.  It is not much compared to the luxuries a clan chief firstborn is accustomed too, but after climbing these steps up and down, I am sure you will find it adequate at least for tonight." Damn, how was he wearing boots? I suddenly noticed them plus he no longer limped or walked bend-over. He still looked old but neither sick nor exhausted." You aren't a Lowmen, correct?" "Did not Odin often use disguises to test other Aseir?" "The last time I heard a story of the Gods was when I was five, and Father killed my mother!" I glared at him and said. "You are one of the Faceless I assume."

He did not answer but walked to the open steel door, and I followed. Just before I was about to walk through, he turned and said, "Don't you want to bring the soak stones into the burg?" I turned back to get the sack as I did that the door closed. I heard his voice through the door, "Be sure to stay alive tonight. This door opens every morning for four hours to admit visitors entry.  If you survive until tomorrow, you will be allowed to enter, Cheers!" He does not know how lucky he is, with that steel door between us. I would otherwise remove his head from his thin neck. I was angry since I despised being a lowly pawn in a game in which I had no control.

Grandfather wanted me here, and whoever was inside this old place did not. They seemed to enjoy playing tricks and games on people. There appeared to be little if any way for me to survive a night here. Not that there was an actual night, the light would stay pretty much the same. The temperature was reaching below freezing. Not as cold as during Longnight but bone-chilling enough to kill an unprotected human after a night of extended exposure. The fool I was, I had given that old man my jacket. No, I was not, he was freezing to death, and I helped him. I also feel the same about his cursed sack! I jumped to conclusions again without thinking, darn.

When is that sack, yes, there? I opened it. Indeed there were six oil soaked stones, well actually some type fossilized plant or animal from Niflheim's prehistoric past. I got no no tools with me! I arrived here in the same clothing I had on leaving school. No knife, no nothing, and now even without my Fanger fur vest. What a sorry shape I am in now, there is no way to make fire, that will light the Stones and release their warmth. I shook the stones onto the ground anyway. The tightly woven sack appeared made the old fashion Nifleheim way, by women pounded down a tough, stringy seaweed and then spinning it into a durable fabric. No one I knew, even in our burg, still made material this way. They brought imported fabrics and in town folks, like Yngve, would buy their clothing ready-made in stores.

To my surprise, the sack contains a heavy bladed hunter's knife in a sheath. Probably so I could kill myself. But I knew how to make fire by strike a spark into a dry tender. This skill everyone on Niflheim learned early in life, but there was no way I could get Tyranno oil at the present temperature to ignite from a spark! Hmmm, first, I could use the knife to cut a hole in the sack and use it as a poncho. I am getting cold and my fingers worse. The knife was super sharp like a shaving razor, and if I used it to make shaved fibers from the sack into thin fluff, it would burn. It along with a few wrappers of Sparkle-Bright gum I found in my pocket, shredded to fine bits I have enough starter fuel.

Now finding a suitable rock was more a challenge then I thought, but I have one and not too far from that cursed door. I pried it loose from the frozen ground, but I almost gave up. I struck the rock with the knife to create sparks. I had seen Greifen do it before and the stone he used looked very much like this one. Nothing, then again nothing, then finally a spark lit the starter, but only for a second. I tried again, and at last, another sparkle fell into the bed of fine shaved dry fibers and bits of wrapper paper, it lingered perhaps a heartbeat longer. Then a piece of starter turned black, there was a tiny whiff, and I smelled it! It was smoke. The sweetest most delicious scent I had ever smelt barely registered in my running nose, yes, Smoke! My cheek felt very cold because I was crying from the tension. More carefully than a mother kissing her newborn did I breathe onto the glimmer. It began to burn openly, my heart jumped. A drop from my nose almost killed my efforts, but due to sheer luck, it fell next to it, and there more flame. The fire spread across the kindling fast, and I frantically searched my pockets for anything flammable. I cursed myself not to have done that before, I quickly hack a strip off the sack, it took to the almost dying flame. Now I was able to set it to a soaking stone. Hoping it would warm the oil long enough to catch and it did!

Hastily setting up two more soaking stones and huddled as close as I could to them and the mere sight of the orange flames now in the soak stones seemed to warm me a little already. In all this, I wondered how many boys of my age in the entire galactic Union had to make fire like this to stay warm. I was sure I was the only one, and I cursed every evil, foul mouth curse I remembered hearing from Greifen, damn it made me feel better.

The Old man suddenly standing behind me said, "I see the Olafson clan takes great care in educating their children.  Even their young know pretty much every bad word we have in our language!"

I was so startled by his sudden appearance that I drew the knife, more out of reflex than anything else. "I would have a few choice words for you as well, Old Man. But I promised my Grandfather not to fail him, and I shall not! You play your games then, Old Man, and I will do my best."

"You speak strange for a boy of your age I must say. You kindled my interest. So I say you may enter and I let the other boys clean up out here. You did ruin a perfectly good fiber sack, but then I got your nice Snapper fur vest." He turned and walked to the open door. He then turned and waved, "Come, I said you could come in. Young Olafson."