miLady,
Finally! The last two chapters were interrupted so often that I found myself starting over several times on each 🙁
At long last, I present chapter 6!
Blessings,
Jason
Erik Gustav had arrived once more on the planet of his birth. This time he had not taken the Space Bus but arrived with his own brand new Clarion 7 luxury yacht, the Silver Falcon .
A terrible snowstorm obscured everything behind a whirling flurry of white. The two massive snow removers fought a losing battle. His seventy-meter craft had just landed and already wore a thick cover of snow and so did the Volvo Flier that waited not far from the landing ramp.
He girded Mjördaren and then stomped through the snow and the bitterly cold wind. A figure thickly wrapped in furs stood by the flier and greeted him with a muffled voice. “Hail Lord of the Ragnarsson clan and welcome home.”
Erik Gustav knew of course who the man was and recognized the muffled voice. “Hail Orkning, it is good to be home indeed.”
Erik Gustav climbed into the flier and so did his trusted warrior. Reinhold, another retainer, sat behind the controls. Erik Gustav greeted the usually silent man and realized how fast he had gotten used to the always mild weather of Pluribus, as he was glad to be inside the flier. He settled into the leathers and then noticed the flier’s bar had been forcefully opened.
“Orkning, what has caused this damage?”
“The brutish Isegrim, thinking he owns all that is Ragnarsson my Liege. He uses what he wants and what is locked away he breaks. He commands, gives orders, and yet not even the Elders have confirmed him as the new Chief of the Olafsons.”
The pilot, a long-time Ragnarsson retainer, gritted his teeth as he added, “It is not just this compartment he has damaged. Much has been destroyed, tarnished, and besmirched because our lord decreed that we must bow to creatures we should exterminate instead!”
Erik Gustav sighed. “Volund was an honest and true Viking and I saw so much promise in this union. Reinhold, I hear thy complaint. All that happens between the walls of my old burg reaches my ears, yet I am bound by oaths and I can not break them unless they are broken by others. My honor and our traditions come before all else. Even the short sight of a foolish old man and the hardship he caused his daughter.”
Reinhold grunted and with a short nod, “Aye, not even I want thee to break thy oaths. I have much reason to hate you my liege and yet I am also honor-bound to thee and a Ragnarsson warrior I am.”
Erik Gustav reached forward and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know thy loss was caused by me and if you name the price, I shall pay it. Honor is always first.”
The three men repeated as if speaking with one voice, “Honor is first.” This had been the creed of the Ragnarsson clan for almost 3000 years.
The Ragnarsson clan Chief spoke after there was a spell of silence, “While Isegrim becoming clan chief is most likely a foregone conclusion, I have and will take steps that make sure his rule over Ragnarsson treasures are limited and short. Now tell me how is my daughter?”
“She is as pregnant as a bloater fish, my liege, yet still as radiant as the Shortsummer sun itself. The midwife thinks it is any time now.”
Erik Gustav leaned forward. “Reinhold make haste.”
He then pulled back the cuff of his gauntlet style gloves and revealed a GalNet enabled PDD, “System, connect me with my friend Aaron Silverzweig.”
To Orkning he said, “This is a good friend of mine, a lawyer and law professor. He specializes in analyzing the law structures of alien societies and he studied the Book of Traditions.”
The Viking warrior was true to his liege and clan Chief, but he resented the fact that Erik Gustav was off-planet more often than home and he did not even want to understand or hear anything about off-world things.
“Your place is here, my liege, and not at a faraway place beyond the skies. What business do you, what business do we Neo Vikings have there anyway. We need them not!”
“Orkning, you are a good man and one I trust with my life, but as much as we want to, we can not remain completely isolated.
“For all our strength, we are nothing compared to what is out there and I am the one standing guard much like Heimdahl stands guard at the gates of Asgard. It is not a task that is easy or popular, but once a man sees dangers that could threaten his home he must do all he can to stand firm against them. Do you know what would happen without me being there at Pluribus?”
Orkning glared at his chief. “Everything that happens does so out there and does not concern us.”
Erik Gustav sighed, but stated firmly, “We have been pirates and could not stand against the Union. We have been invaded by the Nogoll and we would not be here if it was not for the Union Fleet.”
Orkning laughed. “Those goat faces? We killed them all, each and everyone!”
“One Nogoll ship, an advanced recon group. 260 Nogoll and we lost over 2000. Aye, it was a great victory but we could not have stood against the Nogoll if they sent more. It was the Union fleet preventing that.”
Orkning was still not convinced. “They did that without you being there.”
“Do you remember the two Lowmen you killed about five years ago? Indeed you were drunk and indeed you paid the Peerson clan for the loss.”
“I do remember, what business did they have to come into a tavern and stay?”
“If I am not at Pluribus to make sure our way of life is protected, then a Lowman can go to a Union Court and ask for his rights and declare you a murderer. I doubt you would like to be hanged, you and three-quarters of all men of Nilfeheim. If Union law and Union police come to Nilfeheim, their executioners will have work for years!”
Orkning had seen broadcasts of Federal executions, one of the few GalNet programs the Vikings liked to watch at the taverns. He too had gone to Union school and remembered the virtual excursions. He was a stubborn Viking but suddenly he was glad Erik Gustav did prevent Union law arriving. He was stubborn like they all were, but he was not stupid.
Erik Gustav nodded as he saw the light of understanding in Orkning’s eyes. “I knew you might change your mind.”
Reinhold listened to the conversation and said nothing. He too was a trusted warrior, but he resented this Olafson business. He blamed his clan Chief for the death of his wife. A wife that died before she could give him a son. It was less than a decade ago in old Terran years when Erik Gustav was elected as the Representative of Nilfeheim and had left for Pluribus the first time.
When Erik Gustav returned, he also carried a curse to this world, a microbe, a bacteria, or something of that kind that Erik Gustav was immune to, due to the treatments he had received off-world. While other worlds adhered to the stringent Union hygiene laws, Nilfeheim did not. The fever caused by the microbe spread fast and before the decision was made to call the Union Doctor instead of trying more herbs and home remedies, it was too late. Hilda Hellstrom, the wife of Erik Gustavson and Gunhilde his wife, had died, killed by an off-world disease.
But hearing that made him think differently as well. It was him who decided to delay calling the Union doctor. He hated everything off-world with a passion, mostly because it was fashionable and traditional to hate off-world things.
He didn’t want his wife to be touched by an off-world man and yet the Union Doctor had scolded him and told him how easy it would have been to save them all if he had been called right away.
Reinhold knew this haunted the Old Man and Erik Gustav grieved over the loss of his own wife as well. Erik Gustav had loved his wife very much, no one doubted that. Reinhold found this, however, a fitting punishment from the Gods for the man who brought the disease in the first place.
Reinhold would serve his master but he was no longer the staunch defender of all that was Ragnarsson. Thus, he decided not to tell the Old Man what everyone knew, Volund did not die of an accident and that the upstart Isegrim was bedding a Nubhir herder’s wife instead of having eyes only for his pregnant wife.
- * -
No one could remember a winter storm of such ferocity. Temperatures dropped to -99 on the C-scale, but the rumbling thunder and lighting were quite rare.
Erik Gustav could almost feel the atmosphere of mistrust and anticipation wafting like fog within the walls of Ragnarsson Rock. This was not how he envisioned the last days of his clan and if he was true to himself, he had to admit he was not a good clan chief. A good chief was reachable and took care of his clan’s needs and concerns. A clan chief was more than a ruler, he was also a protector and caretaker; he had not taken very good care of his clan.
As much as he was a man of Nilfeheim’s rules and traditions, he was also a Union Citizen now. No matter how many times he told himself how necessary his task was to be the Nilfeheim Representative, he knew the true reason was that he was intoxicated by Pluribus, by being a member of the Finance and Trade Council. Men like Rex Schwartz and Alex Enroe knew of him. He had the private access code to the President of the Union Bank and could call the old insect any time he wanted. He was invited to parties, rubbed shoulders with Mega Tycoons, kings, queens, and the representatives of other worlds.
Being at the center of the mighty Union and being part of its government was addictive like nothing else.
Other Reps used telepresence Avatars. They could even have hired a professional representative from one of the Representative Agencies, but those weren’t options he considered.
His grandfather was the first Ragnarsson looking outward and started the little company called Silver Hawk Emporium. His father expanded it by adding a mining operation on Balder. But it was he that truly made it a successful company with revenues reaching billions of credits.
All this went through his mind as he sat in his old chair before the massive fireplace in the Lord’s Hall and stared into the orange flames licking around the Tyranno oil-drenched Soak Stones.
Next to him sat three Elders and together they waited for Isegrim Olafson. They had summoned Isegrim and expected his summons to be answered promptly, yet they had waited for over an hour before they saw the massive Olafson come up from the High Halls.
It appeared that the son of Volund had grown even bigger than Erik Gustav remembered. Instead of a sword, he wore a coiled whip and his beard was not braided, but an open mess of black curls. He wore the clan Chief Necklace of the Olafsons and the red fur-trimmed cloak Erik Gustav had given Volund as a gift not so long ago.
Isegrim planted himself with crossed arms before the three Elders. “The Elders summoned me and here I am.”
Erik Gustav said. “We expected you to heed my call over an hour ago, but you being tardy had been a problem even when your father was alive.”
“I have chores and work. I am not an idle man.”
“That is a good sentiment indeed. Maybe it will suit you well if you hire out to another clan to cast nets or help them scrub Nubhir hides. You are the husband of my beloved daughter, but don’t test me again.”
Isegrim glared at the older man. “Are you retracting from thy contract and word?”
“No Isegrim, never has a Ragnarsson retracted a word given. I wanted to make sure you know the full extent of that contract, once the Elders have completed their business with you.”
The Ragnarsson chief motioned to the other Elders. “Now pay your respects to the Elders as it is tradition and just, or do you reject our laws and traditions?”
“I live by it,” Isegrim bowed and greeted the Elders as it was required. “I have a wife that is close to giving birth, the joys of fatherhood await me and I intend not to miss a moment of it.”
One of the elders said, “According to our laws and traditions, I ask you here and now, are you intending to become the clan Chief of the Olafson? Are you going to ask the Circle present to confirm ye in this?”
“Of course I am the firstborn and there is no one who challenges me.”
“You are aware of all the implications? You are then not only speaking for thyself but all Olafson. You are to sit in the company of Chiefs at the great council and all contracts, bonds, and pledges made in the name of the Olafson clan before you are binding to you.”
“Of course I know it all. I was born to this! I shall abide by the laws and traditions and accept the bonds, contracts, and pledges made by those who came before me, so I swear upon the Spear of Odin.”
“Then it shall be so.”
All the old men rose from their chairs and the same Elder declared, “You are hereby declared Chief of the Olafson clan and all thy peers shall recognize you as such. Your word is that of Olafson, your will is that of the clan.”
One of the Elders handed him the Clan Leader Seal Ring that had been collected by them from Volund’s hand. “This is your last chance to step back, you put this ring upon your hand, it is done and your oath is sealed.”
Isegrim grunted and put the ring on his finger and his victorious grin showed despite his beard.
Erik Gustav however also smiled.
“Of course one of the contracts and pledges you just confirmed is this one.” The Ragnarsson Chief produced a leather-bound folder with the seals of the two clans upon it. “This is the very contract I had made with Volund and the Olafson clan, it was sealed with that ring, and by you wearing it, you accepted that.”
Isegrim waved his hand.
“Of course, and I know it makes the clan Chief of the Olafsons the lord over this burg and all that it represents, is that not the case Old Man?”
“Almost, Isegrim, almost but not quite. It makes the firstborn son that comes forth between your union to Ilva Ragnarsson the sole inheritor of it all, both Olafson and Ragnarsson, and he will be Lord over it all. You are, like Volund, just a steward.”
Isegrim was neither concerned nor surprised.
“I know that too, but he will be my son and this is Nilfeheim. He is born and whatever I decide will be his and what I want to take will be mine.”
Isegrim cracked both seals and opened the folder and then scanned over the document. He found what he was looking for and read out loud: “The firstborn shall inherit the day he is declared a man before the Elders. Until then the caretaker and steward of the Ragnarsson holdings on Nilfeheim remain under the control of the last living Ragnarsson, a retainer of twelve percent of the earnings of the Nilfeheim bound estates shall be paid annually to the steward.”
One of the Elders said. “You remain the steward until your son turns 16 and is declared a man before the Elders.”
Isegrim lost his grin. “I have to wait for sixteen years? What happens if he dies, this is a dangerous world and I don’t intend to cuddle my son but raise him as a warrior born.”
Erik Gustav said. “Then it is mine to decide what to do with it. The Contract dies with my future grandson.”
Neither the elders nor Isegrim saw the midwife rushing up the stairs in a great hurry, summoned by a chambermaid.
Isegrim finally sat down, and whatever he said was drowned in a mighty thunderclap. The electric lights flickered and went out. The deafening thunder was followed by loud shouting. “Fire!”
Isegrim and Erik Gustav dressed as quickly as they could and with cold masks before their faces, rushed with other men of the burg to follow the shouts of alarm. Going out without a cold mask in that weather was close to suicide, a deep breath could freeze the water in the lungs.
It turned out that lightning had struck the roof of the Freemen’s quarters. Debris and rock pieces littered the ground before the three-story house; bright flames licked out of the hole in the roof. A fire was rare but not completely uncommon in a world where most cooking and heating was done with an open flame. Still, the lack of available wood to build with made house fires less destructive and dangerous as they once had been so long ago on planet Earth.
It took them little time to reach the attic.
Greifen, the yardmaster of the Ragnarsson burg reported, his face blackened by soot, “The lightning ignited these bales of seagrass that we had stored here, but I don’t think it will spread, Sire.”
Erik Gustav, raising his falcon shaped cold mask, said. “What is done to make sure?”
“We are pulling what has not caught fire yet away and we throwing snow on the flames.”
Isegrim snorted, “No sense to stand out here then. Things are well in hand.”
Lighting brightened the sky and thunder rolled over whatever he said.
Greifen looked through the hole in the roof and said. “I wonder what it is that made Thor so angry tonight?”
Erik Gustav turned to the stairs. “Greifen, the generator?”
“It has stopped working, no one we have knows of such off-world things and how to fix them. It has always worked.”
Erik Gustav did not say out loud what he was thinking but he realized just how backward Nilfeheim was. They thought the gods were real and could not even service a simple generator, yet they were part of a space-faring community that harnessed the energies of stars. “Call for service then, it is not good to be without electricity in weather like this.”
Greifen said, “I fly to Halstaad Fjord at once, my liege. Our only GalNet terminal is in the still room and it too needs power.”
Erik Gustav only nodded and turned himself to leave the Freeman house. Halfway down the stairs, he was stopped by a woman in a fur cloak and the blue dress of a maid, her face bright red. “Sire, the Lady, she is giving birth and the midwife says we need the Union Doctor fast!”
Three hours had passed since the maid had delivered the urgent plea.
Even with power, the Galnet terminal was not Avatar enabled. He then learned that not even the clinic was Avatar enabled. He had used his own PDD to call the Union Clinic.
One of the doctors of the Union Clinic had to come out to the burg in a flier.
The Union Clinic was technically way too small and understaffed for a world of this size, but it was seen as an admission of weakness to go to the Union Clinic.
Nilfeheim Vikings first tried to doctor themselves and use old fashioned home remedies before consulting the clinic. Children were born at home and if the mother was lucky to be important enough, and of a clan, she could rely on a midwife.
It had taken almost an hour to find a free doctor and while the clinic maintained a small fleet of modern, fast, all-weather Fliers, one of them was currently being repaired, the two others were in use when Erik Gustav called.
A Union Doctor had finally arrived and was rushed into the bedroom by the midwife.
The men were standing in the drawing-room, each of them nervously brooding. Isegrim feared that he would have to go back to the crumbling burg when his wife died before she could deliver the twins. It was his nature to care more about that than about the young woman who was his wife, fighting for her life.
Erik Gustav was very worried about his daughter and he also realized that he had not done enough as Planet Representative.
The clinic not having an avatar enabled GalNet terminal was something a Planet Rep should have known and remedied. That he had not learned from the last time when disease killed his wife and did not purchase one for the burg was a painful reminder just how much he had failed as clan Chief and as the Representative of this world.
He was so rich he could buy one for every burg on Nilfeheim and he prayed to Odin to keep Hel away, he would then do just that.
The burg was eerily dark, the generator still not working. The only service company in town for these things was closed for the night. There was another one at Isen Lansby and the technician promised to come as soon as he had serviced three other emergency repair calls first.
Without electric heat, the old fireplaces could not keep the big burg warm. Not that there were even enough soak stones or Seaweed bricks to keep them all going.
He had called the office of his company and they diverted one of his freighters, picking up a new Zero Point power provider and a few thousand tons of firewood. All his money however could not make them fly faster or arrive here before the eight weeks the trip would take.
Isegrim paced back and forth and grunted. “What is it that takes so long? He is a Union Doctor by Odin’s name, he should be able to fix whatever is wrong in no time.”
Erik Gustav glanced at the priceless mantle clock above the fireplace, an antique his family had brought from Earth a little over 2800 years ago. He had it restored by an expert only ten years ago and it kept time in a very peculiar way by pointing two arms at the circularly arranged numbers around the clock’s face.
It was Gothorm Ragnarsson, his grandfather who had shown him how to read the time. The two mechanical hands had almost joined at the top. It was only a minute before midnight. Of course, the clock kept Earth time, but the colonists had kept to the 24-hour division of the day.
While he stared at the clock he remembered that one of his Assembly colleagues told him that many of the old Terran human colonies still kept OTT, Old Terran Time. It simply seemed natural to humans and fit their biological rhythm. He tried to keep himself calm remembering these trivial facts at a time like that.
The larger one of the clock’s hands moved with a fine almost inaudible click.
Just at that moment, a bright, cold bluish-white flash of light illuminated everything for the briefest moment and the following thunder felt as though shook the massive stone walls.
The door to Ilva’s bedroom opened and Freydis, the wife of Hogun Olafson and Ilva’s midwife appeared, holding something swaddled in a blanket. “Lord Isegrim, behold thy son!”
Isegrim forgot everything, all his selfish thoughts, his plans to kill the woman and the child to gain the clan riches, all else faded as he saw the tiny pinkish baby.
The very first thing he saw was that his son had his eyes wide open, they were blue with a shade of gray.
The baby raised his incredibly small arms towards Isegrim’s face. With shaking hands, he felt a flood of inexplicable pride and an emotion that even he recognized as love, he took the infant and held it up.
“Odin and Thor! Behold all ye Aesir, this is my son!”
Erik Gustav was moved with very similar feelings. A son was born, the Ragnarsson legacy would continue. Yet the wave of pride was swept aside with the throat tightening sensation of fear as he saw the doctor’s serious expression coming out of the bedroom. “My daughter, how is she? And where is the other baby?”
The doctor said. “You should have called me much earlier. The midwife is good but your daughter had an acute and life-threatening complication in the last state of her pregnancy, characterized by the appearance of tonic-clonic seizures. It is called Eclampsia and I had to call Med Central to diagnose and treat it right. It is virtually unknown nowadays...”
Erik Gustav yelled, interrupting the medic, “Doctor, how is she?”
“I have her in a deep sleep, she will recover fully and I managed to keep the boy alive. The girl however is stillborn and beyond any medical help.”
Isegrim was still holding the baby. “My son is healthy?”
“Your baby boy is the picture of health and the first baby that I’ve ever delivered that was born with his eyes open, rare but not completely unknown.”
The midwife said, “He is a warrior born like no other, mighty Isegrim. When the doctor slapped his behind he did not cry, but clenched his tiny fist and raised his arm as if he wanted to strike back at whoever slapped him.”
The baby had gotten a hold of Isegrim’s beard and the tiny creature smiled. Isegrim cooed.
“He knows his father and his grip is strong, oh aye he is an Olafson!” Then he held the baby out to Erik Gustav.
The patriarch of the Ragnarssons also raised the baby to his face. He had seen many wondrous sights on Pluribus and yet that rosy-cheeked little boy that reached toward him outshone all the wonders of the Universe. It reminded him of his children as he held them for the first time, one of them being his daughter, the mother of this baby. “Hail to you my grandson, hail Eric Thor Olafson, may your life be long and your way be true!”
Isegrim turned to the doctor, “My wife?”
The doctor told him the same thing he had said to Erik Gustav and they all went in to see her.
She looked peaceful, her golden hair like a precious veil around her. Even Isegrim could not fight his emotions as he saw the tiny shape covered underneath a piece of cloth on the bed beside her. He told himself that it was just a girl and he did not care for the woman or the babies and that his true love was waiting in Halstaad Fjord. They had decided it was wisest for Gretel not to be at the Burg, especially since Erik Gustav was here.
Yet as he thought of Gretel and saw his wife and the still-born girl, he decided to let her wait till the very last Longnight occurred on Nilfeheim and be a better husband and the best father Nilfeheim ever saw. Whatever hold that blonde devil had over him felt suddenly broken. His son would be the heir to all Olafson and Ragnarsson.
‘His son’... words had never more meaning to him.
“The girl shall find eternal rest with the warriors and first ladies of Olafson and she will receive a send-off as no other woman has ever received, she shall not die without a name. Her name will be Freya and such will it say on the Mehir raised in her memory!”
Erik Gustav was not the only one that noticed the change in Isegrim as he came down the stairs the very next day, walking carefully with Ilva on his arm.
Both were decked out in their finest. Isegrim wearing full Clan Chief regalia, the clan necklace however was covered with a black cloth signifying the death of an important clan warrior. He also wore the clan sword, Hevnen.
Ilva was resplendent in a long, flowing gown of blackest velvet with golden seams. Her hair, reaching past her waist, brushed into a luster that made gold look dull and cheap by comparison. A black veil signified her mourning.
There in the High Hall everyone living at the burg and the Elders of Nilfeheim had gathered. Even the Lowmen had been called and had a chance to clean themselves. Erik Gustav walked behind them holding the baby, this time swaddled in suede leather and a Nubhir fur-lined blanket that was Olafson Red. It was embroidered with the wolf heads and the silver falcon, Ilva had made this blanket in the many months of her pregnancy.
Isegrim stopped at the top of the five steps that led from the so-called Lord’s Retreat into the High Hall of the Ragnarsson Burg. He took the bundle from Erik Gustav and held the child high so all could see and with a booming voice proclaimed, “This is my firstborn son, brought into this world by my wife, the First Lady of this clan. We also mourn the loss of my daughter Freya Olafson, who was taken by Hel.”
He lowered the baby and said, “This day and tomorrow will be in her honor and I command you to lower all flags and cover all shields. To the stone cutters I say, cut me a Mehir and emboss her name upon it, but in ten days from today, we will gather to celebrate the naming day of my son.”
Erik Gustav announced, “To send my granddaughter off to the plane of the dead in a fashion befitting her, I command the cellars to be opened and the kitchens to provide their finest for a feast in her honor for all of you; tonight you are all guests and no difference shall be made as what your stand might be. Tonight we are united in grief and remembrance. This way we send off the most honored among us.”
Isegrim handed the newborn back to Erik Gustav. The Ragnarsson scion stood two steps above and as he was passed, the tiny baby reached out and his little hand touched Mjördaren.
It was of course a completely random event, but there was hardly a society in all the Universe who put more credit into signs and omens than the Neo Vikings of Nilfeheim. A collective sigh went through the assembled crowd and one of the Elders said. “Not rattles or toys a newborn Olafson reaches for, nay but a sword. A warrior born indeed!”
- * -
Edited by Jason Taylor