Battle Through the Nine Realms - Chapter 32 - Spoils of Not Dying (Patreon)

“Einar?”

Blinking his eyes a few more times, Magnus saw that Arngrim was sitting next to him on a chair, and he was in a small room lying on a bed.

“I guess I didn’t die,” Magnus said as he stretched his neck.  “How long have I been here?”

“One day.  They gave you something to help you sleep and heal.  You lost a lot of blood.”

Slowly flexing every part of his body, it only took a few seconds to realize he felt great and that nothing hurt.

“That’s a nice scar on your chest. Guat and Osvif might be jealous.”

Chuckling, Magnus pushed himself up and saw the room he was in was about as big as the one he and the other two shared back at the Berserkers’ Den.  Worked stone covered the floor, ceiling, and wall.  A single window near the ceiling let in a bit of sunlight, and a thick wooden door was cracked, helping to draw the breeze through the room.

“Skardi?”

Grinning, the rune crafter twisted the favorite stick in his beard and shrugged.

“He is fine. You killed him, and to say it appears to have taken him down a notch is putting it mildly.  He was overconfident and believed invincible.  Now, he has learned a little bit of humility the hard way.  No one knows how weak that death made him.”

“I know the answer, but do you think his father will keep his word about not making this personal?”

Scratching his brown beard, Arngrim’s lips danced as his face scrunched.

“It wouldn’t serve him to do that anytime soon.  Five or ten years from now? Maybe, but by then, you should hopefully be strong enough that what it would cost him would not be worth it again.  Most Jarls and warband leaders don’t pursue petty disagreements.  Doing so can cost them far more in the long run, and death is already a constant while raiding the other realms.”

Magnus nodded as he listened and lifted up the covers, noticing all but his small clothes were gone.

“Your clothes are in that chest, along with your axe.  If you’re good to get dressed and leave, I will summon the healers and let them know.  They had expected you to be awake in the next few hours.”

“That would be great because I need to piss, and I’m starving,” Magnus replied.

“Water is in the pitcher. Piss in the empty one.  When you’re ready to leave, just head to the left down the hallway.  I’ll be there waiting.”

After draining the snake, Magnus got dressed.  He wasn’t certain about drinking out of the other pitcher, so he slid his axe through the belt loop and moved down the hall where Arngrim had directed him.

Learning he had slept half a day and that it was only about noon, Magnus found himself whistling as he walked.

***

The giant doors were open as Magnus walked into the temple.  Ornate carvings of Odin decorated the wooden doors, and someone had done a decent job of making the eye of the All-Father track you as one entered the temple.

Inside, smoke hung in the air, some murmuring of those praying at different spots droning across the room.  

“Keep the hood up,” Arngrim whispered. “We don’t need to cause any problems because of you being recognized.”

Nodding, he moved toward the giant stone statue set in the middle of a small pool of water.  Different flowers floated on the dark surface, and coming to stand at the edge of it, Magnus remembered how it had felt being looked down at in that hall with Odin.

“What brings you here, chosen one?”

A hand was on his shoulder, and turning slightly, a young woman who couldn’t be older than him stood in a white robe.  The edges of her robe by her wrists were red, covered in what looked like fresh blood.  Her red hair spilled out over her shoulders, not tied up in braids, and those green eyes of hers were like emeralds, catching light and sparkling.

She laughed, her voice sounding almost pleasant, like a song bird, echoing off the walls around them.

“You have done well, but it is not time to seek anything from the All-Father yet, Einar Sibbison.”

“Who are you?”

The question felt stupid the moment it came from his lips, but Magnus had an idea, yet his mind struggled to believe it might be Odin or some other being.

“You are still struggling to understand.  Look around the room.”

Her hand gestured, and when Magnus scanned the room, he realized it was empty except for the two of them.  Not even Arngrim was near him.

“Are we—”

“Yes, for now.  I cannot have you being noticed, and having my oracle talk with you would draw attention you are not ready for yet.  I have no doubt that moment will come sooner than later.  For now, take my blessing for winning the tournament and doing so with honor.  May hit help you in the coming months as you take the next step.”

He wanted to speak, and yet his body failed him.  The woman moved toward him, her bloody finger outstretched and pressed against his forehead.  Like a painter, her finger danced across his skin, the warmth of something wet being drawn.

[ Odin has blessed you ]

[ A boon has been gifted for three months. Growth of Asgard - 2x Base Learning Speed ]

The words that filled his vision left him in shock.

“This will aid you as you prove yourself and grow.  Now return and prepare for what you have been asked.”

A smile appeared on those red lips, and a single drop of blood ran from the corner of one toward her chin, standing out against the white color of her flesh.

Chuckling, the woman laughed, running her finger from the drop at the base of her face to her lip, leaving a smear of blood.

“Einar, what are you staring at?”

Arngrim’s voice made Magnus blink a few times, and the noise of everything around him flooded his senses.

Without thinking, he reached up and rubbed his forehead, feeling wetness, and when looking at his fingers, he saw blood was on them.

“Are you okay?” Arngrim asked when he saw the blood as Magnus turned around.

Nodding quickly, he motioned toward the doors.

“We need to go, I’ll tell you on the street.”

Shock filled the old man’s face as his eyes went wide, and Magnus saw the man bite his lip in an apparent attempt to not ask questions.

***

“I’m so glad you’re alive! Odin protected my sweet boy!”

Thora continued her bear hug on Magnus, ignoring Valgard’s constant taps on her shoulders and attempting to pull her away.

“Dear, he’s a grown man, and you’re acting like he’s still stuck on your teat,” he whispered in her ear.

“Don’t be an ass!” she snapped. “Soon, Einar will be gone, and I’ll be stuck at home with just you! Give me another minute!”

Everyone in the Berserkers’ Den laughed, and Valgard backed up with his hands raised in surrender.

“I’ll be fine, Mother,” Magnus said quietly as he hugged her. “I’ll stop by occasionally to make sure Valgard is taking care of you.  If not, then he and I will need to have a talk.”

His mother laughed and gave him one last squeeze before reaching up and stroking his chin.

“You’re too good to me.”

“Finally!” Guat shouted as Thora took a step back.

He and Osvif raced forward, both young men laughing as they encircled their friend and hugged him at the same time.

“Einar! The Champion of the Symposia!” Osvif exclaimed.

All the adults stood back, watching the three boys celebrate for a moment.

A cough came, and the two boys broke their embrace and moved away so that Reinn could have his moment.

The smile that his Lendmann wore was marred only by a single wet trail he spotted on the man’s face.

“Einar Sibbison, step forward.”

Magnus moved to where he was expected and stood with relaxed attention.

“You have honored your god, your parents, and our village. Even more, you have honored me in ways beyond how you did at this tournament.  For that, I have something only two other men wear.”

The Lendmann extended his left hand and turned it over, opening it to show a small gold ring with the same pattern of two axes and two shields around the rings Reinn, Brennor, and Hrein wore.

He reached out and took the gold band, slipped it onto his ring finger, and grinned as he studied it.

“I am honored.  Thank you.”

Reinn nodded and motioned to Hrein and Brennor, who both moved to take the Lendmann’s place.

“Einar, you’re a pain in my arse, but I love you like the son I never wanted,” Brennor said with a chuckle. “For that and for making me richer than Reinn ever could, I have a gift to aid you on this next journey.  Try not to spend it all on women and ale unless they are beautiful women or the amount of ale you drink makes them so.”

A few groans came from the women and Reinn, while most of the men laughed as Brennor handed Magnus a small coin purse.

Hrein didn’t wait, pushing Brennor aside playfully.

“Now that you have money, know I can finally allow you to court my daughter, but so help me, if you do and hurt her, I will personally come and cut you as you sleep!”

The glare Magnus received from Hrein ended as the red-headed man winked and pulled him in for a quick hug, releasing him and holding out another coin purse.

“Buy yourself something nice.  Maybe find a rune user who can help you grow some facial hair.”

The two of them laughed, and both warriors moved out of the way.

Arngrim came forward and motioned to Osvif and Guat, who produced a small chest from behind a bench that had been covered.

“I’d say something stupid or make a joke, but the truth is, you earned every bit of this coin,” the rune crafter said. “Don’t worry, it’s all there.  Guat and Osvif made certain no one messed with it.  Hopefully, this will help you in the next stage of this journey.”

When the boys set the chest down with a loud thud, Magnus watched as everyone stood nearby, smiling at him.

He pushed back the lid, feeling a weird sensation of excitement.  

I never imagined opening a chest of coins! This is freaking awesome!

The lid popped open, and inside was a bunch of rocks, dirty underclothes, and some smelly boots.

He felt his eyes widen, and then the laughter around the room told him that everyone was in on the joke except him.

“Oh boy, you’re face,” Guat said between laughs.  “Priceless!”

Osvif was nodding, slapping the Lendmann’s son on the back as his face got red enough to compete with his hair.

“You’re all a bunch of bastards,” Magnus said with a smile, “but you’re my bastards.”

Reinn was laughing and moved forward, handing Magnus a slip of paper.

“This is your receipt at the vault here in Kopanes.  They know you’ll be coming, and there was no way we would play around by carrying what you’ve earned.  Many people have lost and gained fortunes before, but I can think of none who have done it with the flair you did, Einar.  Know I have never heard of one doing as well as you have.”

Written on the paper was a number that boggled his mind.  

*****

Bill of Deposit

Einar Sibbison

437.3 Gold

*****

He coughed and looked at Reinn and then everyone else and saw them all smiling and nodding.

“If you don’t think you need my gift, I’ll gladly take it back,” Hrein said with a wink.

Shaking his head, Magnus motioned to Teit, who was standing at his usual spot, overseeing the room.

No one was in except his family and villagemates.  Outside stood a line of people patiently waiting to tell Einar how grateful they were for his accomplishments and the money he earned them.  

“Teit! I’d like to buy drinks for all my friends here and every person that comes through that door tonight!”

The one-armed man’s eyes bulged, shaking with disbelief.  He ran his hands through his brown hair and motioned to Reinn with his head.

“It’s his money.  Let the boy gain a reputation!” Reinn bellowed back.  

Grinning from ear to ear, Teit started shouting orders at his employees, who were patiently waiting for the chaos they knew would come tonight.

“Get ready, boys and girls! Odin himself is going to come down tonight and drink his fill!”

Stomps of boots came from everyone in the room, and Magnus smiled, wondering if such a thing was possible.  

Odin, if you show up, I’ll buy you a drink. 

***

Hragnelf’s magic not only healed injuries but also turned out to cure hangovers.  

Magnus felt amazing after the older man took care of him and his two friends.

“Are you ready for this?” Osvif asked.  “The whole city is going to be there.”

Nodding, Magnus checked himself once more in the polished metal mirror.  

Reinn had an outfit made three days ago for Magnus, stating he always knew the boy would make the last two days.

“You look like a lord more than a warrior,” Guat teased, his outfit matching Magnus’s. “I guess we’ll have to show off to everyone just how good the men from Kroppr look.”

“I’ll be cheering for you both from the stands.”

Nodding, Magnus felt the frustration that only the top twenty made it to the actual presentation of combatants in the dueling fields.  

Just a few hours from now, the city would start fighting for seats. Every ticket had been sold, and countless people were offering insane amounts of money for what most said was an event not to be repeated in a decade or two.

“Just be glad you get to watch warbands fighting over you,” Osvif said, not looking dejected at all. “We all knew you two were the best, and just by coming with you, I’ve already had a few people reach out to me!  So don’t worry. Soon enough, I’ll be worthy of joining the mighty Einar’s warband!”

The three laughed, each checking the other once more and making sure everything was in place.

“I guess we should head down,” Magnus said after one more glance at himself.

The braids in his hair had been finished last night by his mother.  She had taken her time, telling him all her favorite stories of what he had done as a child.  They both laughed even though Magnus couldn’t remember any of the stories.  When she had finished checking him over, she gave him one last kiss on his forehead and left, the stream of tears finally breaking over the dam she had held back for so long.

Valgard had given him a new axe.  The man had been almost as teary as Thora, but he kept it together well.  Etched on the side of the wooden shaft was a phrase that finally made Magnus shed a few tears.

“Einar — The son I didn’t know I needed.”

So much pain in his previous life had been from having a father who didn’t listen to his thoughts or ideas.  Valgard had never been that man after that day with the troll.  From that moment on, he treated him with respect and compassion, and he occasionally showed emotion.  

“You know I’ll always have a room at home for you,” Valgard said as they clasped arms.

“I know, Father.”

The older man made it through the doorway before Magnus heard the sob he had tried to hold back.  

Now, seeing himself in the mirror, his blond hair done by a woman who loved him and his new axe from a man who cared just as much but struggled to show it, Magnus felt ready for the next stage of this journey.