Viking - Chapter 6 Beta (Patreon)

Gritting his teeth, ignoring the snot that flung from his nose as he took a deep breath, Magnus pressed on, not willing to share the treasure he had claimed, knowing if Odin had blessed him, there had to be a reason and this was it.

With a rush of power his legs moved slightly faster and he covered the last few steps he had hoped to get, hearing a yelp come as three noises of flesh and bone colliding into something came from behind.

Not willing to look back yet, Magnus kept on running, covering another fifteen yards before he let go of the legs, stumbling forward and turned to see the three wolves, growling at him, moving along an invisible wall.

“Fuck off!” Magnus shouted as he held up a finger and tried to catch his breath.  Other sounds from the forest rang out and the three wolves turned their attention to it, ignoring him.  

As one, the pack took off, moving along the barrier and into the woods, avoiding whatever must have now arrived inside.

Pulling the axe free and setting it on the ground, Magnus lay on his back, taking in steady and controlled breaths. He let everything sink in.

I won… I actually won. This is like one of those god damn video games Dawson played!  

After a few minutes, and once Magnus felt recovered, he moved to the carcass with his axe and began to butcher it, hacking along the back spine on one side.  Each blow shattered the bone, and finally the pig had been chopped in half.  Using the axe which wasn’t suited for the task of field dressing, Magnus cut out the intestines and stomach, doing his best to limit the exposure of the side he wanted to keep to intestinal fluids.

It took a while, and he hated leaving the stuff there on the road but he wasn’t going to go near the barrier.  Whatever had been in the forest never came out or showed itself, but that didn’t mean Magnus wanted to risk going back inside simply to deal with the innards.  Maybe tomorrow he could come and take care of that.  For now, the next part was up.

He tried to lift the carcass up and onto his back, but it was too heavy, even with his strength and the boon he had been given, it was impossible.  It was still over three hundred pounds and even if he could have gotten it there, his endurance wouldn’t last.

Sighing, Magnus started cutting it in half, doing a horrible job butchering it with the axe.  It took even longer and finally he had basically half of the pig.  Magnus dragged the half he couldn’t carry into some plants on his side of the barrier.  Leaving it out on the road might cause some problems if someone came across it.  Finally ready for the next part he hoisted his half onto his shoulder, and he set off quickly, knowing that time wasn’t on his side.  Eventually, the boon would end, and when it did, the trip home would be a bear.

The journey was long and hard, and the decision to only keep one half had been the best choice.  During his trip home, Magnus realized how he must look, covered in blood, carrying a slab of meat on his back. 

It was when he encountered the only person on the road and the older man said nothing but stared intently at him, leaning against a gnarled staff that was way too thick in Magnus’s opinion.

A toothy grin, minus a few bottom teeth, was directed at him as the brown beard and mustache parted. Sticks were twisted in the man’s beard, and Magnus couldn’t figure out why there was black paint on his face.  Long brown hair ran past his shoulders, spilling out on the robe that looked nothing like anything the other people wore.

That must be the Arngrim Serhmysson guy Thora warned me about.

Giving a simple nod, Magnus kept moving toward home, anxious to get out of sight.

With the sun hanging just a few hours left in the sky, people would be returning from the fields and the chance of him being seen was going to increase.

“What in Odin’s name did you do?!” Valgard shouted, waving his hands at Magnus who stood there, not flinching as the man got in his face.  “Do you have any idea what could have happened?!”

“I wasn’t going to die, father,” Magnus replied.

A hand came at him and without thinking, Magnus ducked under the back handed slap, surprising himself and Einar’s dad.

Eyes bulged as Valgard glared at him, lifting his hand again, prepared to strike when Thora grabbed his arm.

“Don’t dear! Please! Odin and Eir gave him back to us!”

Growling, Valgard yanked his hand free and poked Magnus in his chest.

“What would have happened if you lost that axe?! Do you have any idea how much Reinn would have charged me to get another one?!”

His mouth hung open, and even as calloused and hard as Magnus was, the fact that Valgard didn’t actually care about his son’s life, but instead cared more about the axe stung.

What kind of bastard is this man?

“I’m sorry father.  I won’t risk it again.”

Valgard’s hands and shoulders shook as his fists were clenched tightly.

“Go and clean yourself up and make sure my axe is ok! Do you understand?”

Magnus nodded and moved quickly toward the front door.  He saw the look of sadness on Thora’s face as she bit her lip and tried to smile but couldn’t.  

Outside he found the well set off near the field about fifty yards from the house.  Using the rope he pulled the bucket up and just dumped it over his head.  

Cold needles shot through him as the water was chillier than he had expected.  It made him feel alive.

“I should have let him hit me,” Magnus muttered as he started to wash off the dried blood that was caked to him. 

Memories of being slapped by his own father bubbled up as he cleaned himself.  It was his dad who had made him leave the family farm, choosing to enlist in the army even though his dad had forbidden it.

“I swear Odin, you have one hell of a sense of humor,” Magnus said, wagging his finger at the sky.

It took a lot of buckets to get himself and his clothes clean enough that Magnus felt he could risk going back to the house. As he got close the smell of meat burning filled the air and his stomach growled.

Outside, leaning against the open door was Valgard, using a stone on the edge of the axe as he watched Magnus approach.

“You’re different. Why?” the man asked when he had reached the house.

“I’m done getting bullied and pushed around,” Magnus replied, his eyes locked on to the man who obviously didn’t like the tone in his voice.  “I’ll do everything required to help the family, but when the time comes, I’m going to become a warrior.”

Valgard’s expression went from pissed off to amused in a second, his eyes almost shutting completely as his head leaned back and he roared with laughter.

“My son? The scrawny one who gets his ass kicked from everyone but that runt Osvif?” he asked, taunting Magnus. “Even if Thor himself came down right now and told me it was going to happen, I don’t think I could believe it.”

Shaking his head and smirking, Valgard pointed the axe head at Magnus.  “Why should I believe you’re going to stop being lazy?  It’s been seven years, boy… seven.  I should have never let your mother keep you, but I made a promise.”

Unable to stop himself, Magnus blinked a few times, his head turned slightly sideways before he made it straight again.  Valgard had turned, looking inside, when he heard the noise of something falling after he spoke, not seeing Magnus’s reaction.

“And stop calling me father. Call me by my name.”

The tone indicated that Valgard was more upset at being called father than anything else.

“As you wish, Valgard.”

Snorting, the man took a sniff of the air and then smiled, shaking his head.

“I won’t ask who you stole that from, but the truth is, until they come looking, we’ll eat well.  You better rest up, though.  Tomorrow I’m going to work you till you drop.”

Magnus sat in a corner, eating his food, grateful for the warm meat and bread that his mother had given him.  She had smiled and said nothing as she brought as much as he could consume.  

Exhaustion took over and Magnus couldn’t keep his eyes open, wore out from everything that had happened.  Without saying a word, he moved to where his bedroll was and laid it out, covering up with one blanket, while lying on the other.

“Like a good dog, snuggled up by the hearth,” Valgard said with a slur.  Magnus had kept count and the man was on his fourth cup of alcohol.

Oh, Odin… you’re a bastard…

Even after sleeping on the floor, Magnus felt rested when he heard the sounds of footsteps coming toward him.  Rolling over, even in the dark light of the room, Magnus saw his mother approaching him.

“Wake up son. I’ll get breakfast going.  Get some wood and get the fire tended to.”

Nodding, he reached for his boots and found them, slipping them on and noticing they were still wet on the inside from where water had gotten in.  

I need to make sure they get dry.  I don’t want to get trench foot out here.

His pants from yesterday were still on and his shirt was hanging off the back of a chair.  It had manage to dry out enough the dampness was barely noticeable.

Moving quietly and quickly, he saw the door his mother had just opened and made his way toward it.  Today was going to be hell, and he knew exactly how to handle someone like Valgard.  In his mind was a special place that provided the sweet and quiet embrace of escape when one tried to break someone.

Breakfast served as one of the things that had occupied Magnus’s mind during the day.  Valgard had him working nonstop, pulling out weeds, hacking at stumps and removing some from a field the man said they would plant later in the year, and more.

Often Valgard had stood there, just watching as Magnus worked, never flinching, or complaining.  By the time the sun had risen, and they were supposed to return to eat, Magnus could see confusion on the man’s face.

Valgard frowned most of the morning, shaking his head often and Magnus figured out quickly that the old Einar had been lazy.  The root of most of the problems seemed to stem from that fact.

“You can take a break,” Valgard shouted from the dirt path that ran between the fields.  “Bring my axe and let’s go eat.”

Standing in the dirt barefooted, Magnus grabbed the axe and stared at the stump he was hacking roots off of.  If he had a horse, and some rope he could pull this out.  Instead a lot of effort was being used to do this by hand.

Not wanting to give his taskmaster a reason to complain, Magnus moved quickly, holding the axe in one hand and picking up his boots with his other.  

Up ahead, walking toward the house like the boy behind him didn’t exist, Valgard sauntered along the path, occasionally checking out a few of the heads of grains as he went.

“I’m not certain what you’re planning, but if I find you slacking off, I’ll beat you, do you understand?”

Even though Valgard hadn’t looked back at him, Magnus nodded and replied.

“Yes sir.”

A grunt came, acknowledging his reply and nothing else was said as they made their way home.

“Tomorrow is bath day,” Thora said as she set the plate with bread and meat before Valgard.  “Do you intend to work him to the bone or give the boy a day off?”

Scoffing, her husband picked up the piece of meat, still steaming with his fingers and gnawed a bite off.

“Thora why do you pester me when I’m eating? And where is my drink?”

“We are almost out so I thought you might want some–”

“Do not think woman! Get me my drink and stop bothering me about tomorrow!”

Magnus watched as Thora flinched and moved quickly to a wooden barrel, lifting the lid and dipping a small hollow horn inside.  Quickly she moved over to Valgard and handed him the drink, trying to make sure she didn’t spill any.

“You know I can’t work him, doing so would earn us even more problems in the village. Besides, apparently, I need to go to town and get some more mead?”

Thora started to nod when the sound of shouting erupted outside of their house.  A moment later the sound of horses coming to the front let them know they had company.