Eric Olafson, Neo Viking Vol. 01

Midril who probably knew every story new or old told me this and many other stories and usually while I helped to peel sea weed stems.

Raghild was the oldest daughter of Thorsten Ragnarssons, clan chief about two hundred years ago and promised to the oldest son of the Starkhelm clan. Yet she was in love with Gansbaf Starkhelm.

It was just one of many such stories of course, the names changed but the theme never did. People denied their own choices and driven to choose between love and loyalty. The general lesson was that those who made the choice always survived while those who did not give in, died.

Raghild died too, at least she disappeared forever in this cave, which was pretty much the same. She however had her revenge by hiding the dowry. No one ever found it. Most agree she had tossed it in the ocean. But Midril is convinced she just cleverly hit it. Most of the dowry would have dissolved and rotted away no matter where she hid it, but the twenty thousand Iridium Kroner worth ten thousand in Union credits would be unaffected by decay. The legend part of the story was of course the usual ghost protecting the hidden treasure.

To me it was a damp but peaceful place, I could retreat, well not for too long and of course not during Longnight.

I eased myself down on a large rock and stared across the water towards the sea side opening of the grotto. The burn on my back was hurting now pretty good.

Isegrim, my father had married again and now I had two brothers: Lothar and Tyr. My stepmother was of course Gretel Hemstaad, my father's true love and she already saw herself in the highest social circles of our planet, being very wealthy and important. She would not let an opportunity go to waste telling anyone how important and rich she soon would be. Before she worked as Nubhir Hide scrubber, now she had servants and staff who hated her arrogance and antics.

At school I was ridiculed by the sons of other clan Chiefs for his choice of elevating a Low man's daughter to be his wife. Murdering his noble wife, my mother. He was still the clan chief of the Olafsons but few would socialize with him.

What galled him was of course the fact that he was only the steward of the Ragnarsson Rock. Aye he was made unchallenged ruler by the word of my grandfather of that well-kept burg. Erik Gustav had however taken back the control over everything else he owned and controlled outside the burg. The Fangsnapper herds at the South Pole, all Nubhir farms and the crown jewel of the Ragnarsson Empire on this planet, the Quarry. On a planet without wood and only one big island. Rock, especially cut rock for burgs had great value.

What riches and possessions my grandfather had amassed beyond Nilfeheim I did not know, but father never had controlled it. He had long spend every Iridium Kroner and credit my grandfather had given my mother as dowry. To keep the tanneries producing leather, he had to buy hides and pelts, cutting into the profit of course.

Gretel often praised the manhood and strength of my father in the presence of guests and servants alike. Praising the man's skills in bed was a truly ancient tradition but considered without class and was frowned upon by most. However it pleased my evil father very much.

Lothar, the older of my two half-brothers was two years younger than me, yet father treated him like his true heir and the first born. Lothar not only got my old room and most of my things, but he learned from very early on that he had power over me when my father was present and he love to find new ways of making my life even more miserable. Tyr was four years younger and since he was the second born father simply ignored him, but he would not treat him like he did me.

Disturbed by something I could not really describe but it somehow felt comforting and warm. I looked up and was certain, I did see the back fins of Tyranno Fin not far beyond the mouth of the grotto. The light must have played tricks with my eyes, there were no white Tyrannos. The enormous fins probably just reflected the light somehow.

The fins disappeared below the ocean surface and I got up with a deep sigh. Making my way back to the kitchen. I wanted to hear how Midril fared.

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There were no news on Midril as she was still at the Union clinic on the big island. The kitchen was still a mess, but servants were busy cleaning it. One of the Olafson warriors stood by the dead Fangsnapper. "There you are, Eric! Come to the High Halls for we must celebrate thy first kill!"

"Lord Beowulf, honored are I by thy recognition of my name, but by father's command I am not to enter the Halls."

"The burg, soon half of Nilfeheim will hear how a boy of eleven years defeated a Fangsnaper with nothing but a kitchen knife. All the warriors of the Burg, be it Ragnarsson or Olafson speak your name. Now Lord Isegrim surely can't deny thee. Come now. Honor must be given to a warrior born."

Dreading what would occur as certain as thunder followed lightning, I followed the respected warrior. Up to this day he had not even acknowledged I existed.

With a powerful push of his piston like arms, he cast open the heavy doors to our High Hall. There on the big rectangular table with black and with red upholstered high backed arm chairs, one color to each side sat the warriors of both not yet completely united clans. In the center of that massive table square was the fire pit. Now cold and not in use.

There was a din of excited voices, everyone turned as Beowulf and I entered. "Behold the youngest, but aye not the least of warriors in our midst."

Father rose from his seat at the head of the table flanked by Gretel and Lothar. What mockery is this, dragging this whelp into these halls? Have you not heard my command?"

Beowulf was of Olafson blood and a distant uncle of mine. "Liege it is the fruit of thy loin that slew a Fangsnapper with a kitchen knife, is he not honored according to our traditions?"

Lothar also got up and threw a piece of food on the floor. "Come and receive the reward then. Eat scraps of the floor like a mangy Nubhir."

I stood fast, not saying a word.

Beowulf was openly angry and a dozen men rose as he spoke. "You let thy second born speak for you. While a warrior demanded an answer?"

Father glared and his hand dropped to the handle of his whip. "You have defied my decree. What are traditions to my word?"

Now Gretel chuckled. "This cretin has conspired against you. Your favorite son and true heir has given a command. Is he not to be obeyed by that thing?"

Father now turned red and screamed. "On the floor, do as Lothar commands."

He rushed towards me before I could do or even say something and lashed the whip across my chest. The heavy steel cable shredded my shirt and bit with burning pain deep into my skin. I clenched my fists and teeth.

"He still stands!" Gretel egged him on.

Another lash cut even deeper. Warm blood now freely flowed. I struggled to keep standing. Instead of begging him for mercy, I smiled and raised my arms. "Thank you father for killing me. Now Odin will receive me."

My knee buckled. "My death frees my Grandfather from his word." Kneeling in a puddle of my own blood. I recited the warrior's prayer. "Mighty Thor I call upon you..."

Beowulf and every Ragnarsson warrior stood. Kveldulf an old Warrior of the Ragnarsson clan. "There is a Viking son without fail. Aye he dies, but you Isegrim are no more sheltered by the oath of my liege. Upon his last breath, this is your burg no longer and let us see if your whip matches my sword."

Father yelled with sudden panic in his voice. "Greifen get him to the still room and dial for the Union Doctor."

It was the last thing I heard and I hoped and prayed silently now as my eye sight faded and my lips no longer wanted to move, that Greifen and the Union Doctor would be too late.

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I cursed the doctor as I saw his gentle face hovering over mine as I regained consciousness. "Níð Ergi! Cursed are thy skills and cursed is this Off World Tech. Is it my fate to remain in this world where I am not wanted?"

He shook his head but his smile remained and he said to someone in the room. "He is alive, just barely so, yet finds strength to curse and insult me." To me he said. "Eric, you almost got your wish but my oath prevents me from letting it happen when I can do something about it."

He checked on a machine that was attached to me by a thin hose. "Now you got to lay still until the blood replicator has completed the transfusion."

The other person in the room was old Kveldulf as I recognized his voice. "You will survive Eric. You are strong! The Huldufolk have their eyes upon you that is certain."

I looked away and said. "The Hidden people, the Aseir are not with me or they would spare me such a father."

"Warriors are not born in comfort, revenge grows out of the woeful tears of the maimed and tortured, you are the grandson of my liege and I am bound as he is by oaths and the unbreakable bonds of a warrior's word. You Eric, you are not!"

The doctor paid little attention to what was said and checked his machine once again, then he said. "I send the flier in the morning to collect the equipment. I am needed elsewhere. On a personally note, I hope the day of Union Law coming to this cold barbaric world is soon. Then no child should have to suffer such cruelty."

With these words he deactivated the GalNet Avatar projection and blinked out into nothingness.

Kveldulf, a grizzly old warrior with more gray than black hair arranged his fang snapper fur lined cloak, with a sweeping gesture of his sinew bulging underarm and sat down on a stool next to the gurney I was on. His face was tanned and wrinkled by glare of Solken, the frosty winds and spending a life time outside on the oceans or on the ice.

He looked at the machine and tabbed it with his finger. "Marvelous little thing. Replaces your blood. You know you left almost all you head on the stone floors of the Great Hall."

"I had not intended to be there nor did I have much to say about the bleeding part."

"Aye a heavy load you carry, Child, but there was not a dry eye and not a throat stricken with pride and guilt in that hall as you, twelve years old smiled instead of scream, raised your arms to Odin. Oh lad it will be told in these walls in many Longnights to come."

"I doubt Gretel or Lothar; I doubt father felt any such things and he will whip anyone who dares to speak of me."

He can't whip warriors. They can defend themselves with weapons. Beowulf and four others of the Olafson clan leaving the Burg. He released them of their oath to him so they could not ask for a clan council and challenge them for clan leadership."

"That suits him well, now there is no one standing up to him."

The old warrior grinned. "I am not sure he has thought that through. Beowulf owns two of the boats and will demand that your father pays him his family share. Denying them will see the men before the Elders, something he certainly wants to avoid.

Horrible is his temper and evil are his deeds, but Isegrim is a Neo Viking and must abide by our ways. He will comply and thus further drain his meager coffers. But this is not how he is to lose this burg. No it must be cleansed by the hand of vengeance. Evil cannot stand against valor."

"I could not stop him from killing my mother and I can do nothing against him, I am weak!"

He put his strong hand on my arm. "Today on far distant earth they would celebrate your birthday, but we are Norse. We are Vikings we do not celebrate the day we are born. Nay we celebrate the day we receive our name. I was there when you received yours."

I looked away. "I wish I was never born, then mother would not have died protecting me."

"Your mother wanted you. She wanted nothing more on this world than you, her fate was sealed when the pact of the clan chiefs was made. One kept quiet the failings of his son and the other blind to the signs and warnings given. But your name day, it was a grand day. The entire burg was decked out in Olafson red and Ragnarsson black. A son, a first son was born into the world. The Conjurers and Seers that travel from burg to burg to cast the runes and see the signs, they all came. clan lords from as far as the Green Eastern Sea came. The Lord Keeper of Hasvik itself made the trip from the Halls of the Faceless Seven, all the Elders even the Eldest of them all; they came. For your grandfather is a mighty man and the Ragnarsson falcon is a standard feared and awed. You Eric are the one combining the blood of Ancient clans. One which must fade into oblivion as no male heir is left, but it will not die as you hold the power to resurrect the Ragnarssons once you have Sons and decide to break the Seal and raise the Falcon standard once more."

His eyes were seeing more than just me as he continued telling me about my naming day. "The Eldest himself took the Cup we call Blótbolli. A cup made of the skull of a long vanquished foe, filled with the blood of your Grandfather, father, uncle and the Eldest mixed with blood of a Tyranno slain by your Grandfather and doused you with it, then your name was spoken by the Elders, by the Keepers and all who were present and they raised the name Eric with mighty bellows to the sky."

As he said that, the old man raised his right fist against the vaulted ceiling."Eric Thor Olafson. The Keeper of Hasvik himself insisted the name of the mightiest of all Aseir should be added to thy given name.

It was Alric Eric Olafson who was the first of thy clan to set foot on this world. It was Erik Thorsten who did so for the Ragnarssons. Erik Gustav is thy Grandfather's name and now it is your name."

He clenched his fists with a fierce proud glare in his bearded face, "The Eternal Seer, the Hermit of the Pillar himself came to your crib. They say he is a Necromancer, a Wizard who knows secrets not of this world. Secerts not understood by all the science of the Union. He threw the rune stones for you and explained to all that the name Eric is of Scandinavian origin, an old name from Earth and the meaning of Eric is 'ruler of all'. It is also of Old English origin, where its meaning is 'eternal ruler.' The Old Seer said that the runes told him that you would make the meaning of your name come true!"

I listened to the tale of the old man and I did enjoy these old stories, but I was certain it was just that, stories and nothing more.

The Blood machine was not done and neither was he. "In the Great Hall it was when your father held you high above his head and yelled. "Behold my Son!"

There were many axes and swords lifted in your honor. Then like the Queen of Nilfeheim itself your mother came down the stairs. Her hair as golden as the sun, in a dress fir for the Elfenkind themselves and your grandfather, drew Mjördaren and proclaimed his sacred vow, that all that is Ragnarsson on this world and all worlds beyond the skies shall be yours on the day you are a man."

I turned so he would not see my tears. I missed her so much. I whispered "Why has it turned out like this?"

"Because evil stalks this rock. Evil disguised in red satin and velvet. Witchcraft, Eric. For nothing else can turn a man such as your father into the lackey of a woman..."

He patted my shoulder. "Now it is time you find some rest."

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It was only three days after that, when I came home from school and there was a big crowd in the yard of our burg, men stood around a bier propped up and on it lay the body of Old Kveldulf.

Greifen pulled me back into the shadows cast by overhang of the kitchen wall and whispered. "Don't be seen now!"

"What happened?" I gasped.

"They say he fell on the steep stairs to the Sub Den and broke his neck. Just as the Old Olafson did, and by doing so making your father the clan Chief. And these stairs are in good repair."

I heard father's strong voice. "Throw him to the fishes. He dared to speak against me on my table and now he robbed me of the chance to teach him a lesson." He made a vulgar gesture. "Let Hel take care of him now. There is much work to do so get to it!"

Even from where I was standing I could see his smug grin and the triumphant glare of his eyes. I was only twelve but I was convinced Kveldulf did not die of an accident.

However I heeded Greifen's advice and slipped into the under crofts and hid in the deep old basements for the rest of the day.

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Death was not done, and Hel still had her hand over the burg because the very next day, Geirhild one of the Free woman working in the Tanneries threw herself of the Northern ramparts, where the Duro-crete and rock walls of our burg clinged to the very edge of the sheer cliffs. Nobody told me why she did it, Midril said this was something I should better not know, yet I heard one of the kitchen helpers whisper that she saw Harkun, my fathers man servant with her on that wall, just before she jumped.

When they carried her broken body in, through the gate, I decided to to the same. I would throw myself over the wall. It was quick and no Union Doctor could do anything. Even though our teacher said they could bring even the dead back to live, strict laws born after the old Clone Revolts prohibited that.

I had enough of the beatings and the humiliation. It was fast and I would be in the land of Hel where mother was and perhaps she even waited for me.

Long after midnight when everyone but the gate man was asleep. I rushed across the yard and climbed the solid Duro-Crete steps and pulled myself up between the battlements. Nilfeheim had no moons like I learned other worlds had, but we had a beautiful star filled sky. The stars above me twinkled and Earthers had called them the Pleiades, of which Solken our own star was one. This region of space was more commonly known as the Xunx reach. There weren't any Xunx left today, and the next day would come with one Neo Viking less.

Almost 220 meters below, dark waves smashed into the rugged teeth like rocks and turned into white foaming surf. "Thor and Odin you have forsaken me, punished my mother and cursed me with a father who hates me more than anything in the world. I know you hate cowards but I am not strong enough. He had killed the Nubhir puppies Greifen had given to me this morning. He had stomped the little animals to a gory pulp and made me clean it up. He promised he would do the same to me as soon as I turn sixteen. What can I do against that?"

There was of course no answer, the Gods were to busy drinking and celebrating to notice the perils of a Viking boy. I jumped, but I did not fall!

A leather clad hand held me by the collar and pulled me back. A shadowy figure, a hooded cloak around his shape said to me. "Who will avenge your mother if you kill yourself? Yo must endure and grow and learn to fight and then kill Isegrim and cleanse this burg from all its filth."

"Who are you?"

"It matters not, Eric. I cannot reveal myself to you for now, but you will come to me now every night. Find me in the lowest basement, where the old hidden passage way is and I will teach you the way of the sword and how to fight."

The shadowy figure let me go stepped back without making a sound melting into the truly black shadows of the battlements. I stepped forward, still at the edge of my nerves, my mind still reeling from the death decision I had made only moments ago, yet there was no one. Did I just dream?

The very next night I sneaked down the past the Under croft and storage basements. Deep into the rough hewn narrow and completely dark passage way that was chiseled out of the rock

during the first clan wars almost a thousand years in the past. It was never completed and ended in a little cavern like room, no one but me would come down here during the day, and certainly no one would be here at this hour. I was certain I had imagined it and was just a coward to afraid to end it.