Book 1 of the Eric Olafson Cycle : NILFEHEIM rw -2-

Galactic Chronicles

Book 1 of the Eric Olafson Cycle : NILFEHEIM

(final rewrite) Chapter 1

 Once the Burg had been a beacon of wealth and might, perched atop the rugged dark rocks that made up the Olafson Isle. Tattered, wind torn scraps flapped from the poles instead of flags with the black Wolf head upon the old Olafson red.

The mighty walls of this ancient Nilfeheim Burg had been a bulwark and shield for many generations of Olafson Vikings now crumbling at many corners. There was rust and decay everywhere.

This was the last year of Shortsummer and soon Longnight would once again descent upon Nilfeheim.

Volund Olafson stood with crossed arms on the parapet above the main gate and gazed towards the south. Volund was, like all Olafsons a big and strong man but his massive underarms had neither hefted a harpoon nor an axe or sword lately, but he was reduced to cast nets from the deck of an Elhir boat, as the Olafson clan had sold its last boat during last Longnight, as his clan needed the money to heat the Burg or freeze to death.

The winds were already cold again and tugged at the Fangsnapper cape the big man was wearing as his slate-grey eyes scanned slowly across the horizon of the endless Nilfeheim Oceans.

It had not always been that way. The Olafson clan was an Old Clan with a clean and uninterrupted line all the way back to the time when the first Colonists from Earth landed on this planet.

Alrik Olafson was among the first, so Family Lore knew, who stepped onto the surface of this world in 2160.

Alrik born in Denmark on Earth brought his family here along with 12,000 other members of the Viking Movement.

It was Alrik's grandson who stepped ashore right here on this Island, claiming it for his Clan. With the riches he and his friends obtained pirating other Earth Colonies he built this burg.

Even after Nilfeheim joined the Union and the space pirate days of the Neo Vikings from Nilfeheim ended, the Olafsons remained an important Clan and all the way until the last Clan wars almost 400 years ago. The Olafsons always had been known to be especially a wild and violent clan, even on a world full of skull bashing Neo Vikings; that meant they picked more fights and formed alliances but sadly not always with the winning sides.

The last Clan wars caused the Olafson to loose their Nubhir farms and the Fangsnapper herds near Isen in tribute payments to victorious alliances.

Byrnjolf Olafson, Volund's grandfather picked a fight with the Trolle clan that cost the Olafson Clan three Hunting Subs and two fishing vessels. Reducing their once sizeable clan fleet to two boats. Two fishing boats were barley enough to sustain the clan with food and left nothing for other essentials.

The last Longnight and seven years of ice and snow, saw the Olafsons loose one boat and sell the other.

Volund already feared that his son Isegrim would be the last Olafson Clan chief, lording over a starving clan that had to hire its men and warriors to other clans, but then the Clans fortune changed.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Only six month ago, Volund was in town, nursing a tankard ale in the old Bredeberg Tavern when a fight broke out, nothing unusual on Nilfeheim of course, but this fight went from brawling with bare fists to drawn swords and axes.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He didn't exactly remember what the argument was about, but he fought back to back with another man and together cleared the room.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The other Viking was Erik Gustav Ragnarsson, the Clan chief of perhaps the richest Clan of all Nilfeheim. Erik Gustav was already member of the Circle of Elder and elected to be Nilfeheim's Representative at the Assembly at the distant planet of Pluribus Unum.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It was him Volund was expecting and just then he spotted a small black dot at the horizon and it was getting bigger fast.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A sleek off World Skimmer, a luxurious Volvo F70 swooped down and landed on the concrete pad before the main gate.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Neo Vikings did not like Off World technology all too much, but skimmers, Arti Grav Flyers and Zero Point powered boats were simply essential on a world with out continents and only a few tiny islands for dry land.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Today was a special occasion, not only would Erik Gustav drink and feast wit him but he was bringing his only daughter along.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Erik Gustav was the heir and leader to the mighty Ragnarsson clan, but his only son died in a Tyranno Fin hunting accident only a year ago.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Volund barked a loud command down to the gate and two of his men raised the steel portcullis. The hydrogen powered power plant had been broken for almost 200 years now and so instead of using electric power, the gate had to be raised by turning hand cranks.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It was an old tradition and a symbolic gesture to open the gates for a honored guest. This is why he had the rusty portcullis lowered this morning in the first place.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">While the creaking sound of metal sliding over metal indicated that his men labored to get the heavy obstruction up, so their guests could enter,he hurried down the narrow stairs, almost stumbled over a broken step, cursed the sorry state of his own castle and then placed himself in a dignified stance behind the now open gate arch.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">By the Gods! That daughter of his was a beauty, he could tell despite the cloak and veil she wore.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Erik Gustav lost his wife to a disease before she could bear him another son.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That meant the Ragnarsson clan had no male heir. Here on Nilfeheim it meant the end of the Ragnarsson clan. Only males were allowed to inherit and carry the name.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Volund grabbed Oddløg's shoulder as that Olafson warrior came from the Crank alcove, sweating form the task rising the gate. “Quick, see that Isegrim is in his finest! Where is he? Does he not know what is at stake. Oh Oddløg make haste!”

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Oddløg, was a stout warrior, not afraid to speak his mind. The scars over his body and face and his missing left eye were visible testimony of the many fights he fought. “Aye my liege I shall make haste and if I have to I will drag him up from the Tanneries.”

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Volund raised his hand in the proper warriors hail and bellowed against the ever blowing wind. “Hail Erik Gustav of the Ragnarsson clan. Come and enter so we may clasp arms and raise tankards in friendship.”

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Erik Gustav who stood before the gate was a grand sight indeed. This scion of the Ragnarsson clan was a tall man and had dark blonde hair he wore in thick braids as it was tradition. He was dressed in fine black leather, the silver falcon emblem of his clan upon his chest. His gauntled gloved right fist resting on Mjördaren, the legendary broad sword of the Ragnarsson clan. Erik Gustav was known far and wide as one of, if not the finest swordsman of all Nilfeheim. Nineteen men he had challenged and all nineteen had died.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The visitor wore knee high boots and a billowing fur lined cape. Besides his daughter, he too had high ranking warriors of his clan along.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Now as the official invitation was spoken Erik Gustav came with a purposeful stride.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Oddlog was running to the main Building and Volund was silently cursing his oldest son. Oh aye he knew why the son of the Clan Chief, his own flesh and blood was drawn to the stinking bowels of the Olafson tannery, like a Flicker fish to the lantern of a fisherman. He had closed his ears to the rumors and prayed to Odin that it wasn't true, but he knew it was the daughter of a Nubhir herder, that had turned his sons head. Volund clenched his fists. As soon as this utterly important business was done, he swore to himself to descend into the crofts and tannery himself and put that wench to the sword and then beat sense into his oldest son.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Oh why could Isegrim not be like Hogun, his second born? Yet Hogun was no longer here. He was gone, driven from his home by a now regretful father and the cursed laws and customs that made the First Born alone heir to it all.

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Erik Gustav has reached him and they clasped underarms and Volund said. “Welcome to the Home of the Olafsons. Oh it had seen better days, noble visitor, but there is naught a dwelling old Norse call home upon our cold world that seen more glory days. No other flag has ever been raised on our rock and oh so many have tried.”

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Clan Chief of the Ragnarssons nodded. “Aye, many tales and much heroic lore is told about this rock. Legendary is the wraith and fighting skills of thy Clan indeed, but what enemies and battle could not, the gnawing tooth of time seems to accomplish.”

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">“It is a source of shame and degradation, noble visitor yet this specter of decay that has descended upon my burg can not be defeated with sword and axe, but with the content of a well filled purse.” “So let us do business then, let us put forth our offspring, for I have need for a heir and you are in need of..much else it seems.” “Come then, Erik Gustav, join me in the High Hall. Meager our resources might be, but none shall say we neglect to be hosts. Come then and join me at our tables. You traveled far and spend much time beyond the heaven. Wondrous as your journey might have been, what compares to honest Viking food and mead?”

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Erik Gustav followed Volund waved his entourage of daughter and warriors to follow then put his arm on Volund's shoulder. “You should travel, they all should travel just once, just once see Pluribus and the wonders of our Union, but aye a repast of Norse making is hard to get.”

<p lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">