BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 031 -

“Einar, I have come as I have promised with guests in tow,” Vrádni said. “It appears your arrival has garnered much attention from my brothers and sisters, and they need to see firsthand the Vikings that have come to uphold their promise.”

He nodded, and Einar gave a slight bow at the four dwarves who were standing behind Vrádni.  Each of the dwarves present had an aura of command that radiated from them.

“Allow me to introduce my brothers and sister,” Vrádni said. “This well-aged specimen of a dwarf is Mystic Fotgror. He is responsible for all of the magical elements that our people create or take part in.”

An older-looking dwarf with white hair and silver eyes gave a nod.  Einar could sense the magic that almost radiated from the unassuming dwarf’s presence. His robes were nothing special to look at, a simple tan cloth. It was the wooden staff that had runes carved in it, as well as a few gems set inside the wood that radiated with power.

“Next to him is our Master Miner Yulgas,” Vrádni said. “If there is anything hewn from rock, he either knows about it, or someone is doing their best to hide illegal mining. Any kind of ore and material you’ll need will come from him if you desire it before it is processed.”

Einar nodded back at the dwarf who stroked his well-oiled blond beard. A pair of blue eyes like sapphires were studying him. 

His chain armor is so fine you’d almost think it was like cloth.

“Now if you need any metal after it’s been processed or any other item worthy of trading, you’ll want to speak with Quartermaster Stenri,” Vrádni stated. “Just know he’s known for being almost as shrewd of a trader as his hunger for sweets has widened his waistline.”

“Hey! I don’t talk about your bad habits,” Stenri growled.

“I might enjoy a good sweet myself,” Eniar said.  

The quartermaster was about the same height as Fotgror but both dwarves were taller than everyone but perhaps Skardi.  Simple worn leather armor was the attire the pudgy dwarf chose to wear. He carried a ledger in one hand and Einar wondered what kind of things were recorded in it.

Beside the three men was a specimen of a dwarf. She towered almost a half foot above Vrádni and her plate armor reflected the light in the room. Her black eyes were like coal and Einar could see the small amount of her braided beard glistening with oil as well.

“I can see your eyes have fallen upon our famous Captain Akrini,” Vrádni said, grinning. “She is captain of the guard out here and not a dwarf you want to get mad at you. I’ve lost count to the number of grown dwarves she has tossed from ale houses and is your best source of information regarding actual tactics that work against giants and other creatures.”

“Did you really kill a Troll King?” Akrini asked, stepping forward when the ranger stopped talking.

“I did,” Einar replied. “After I crushed it beneath the hammer your brothers were kind enough to gift us, I received the notification of experience for my runes.”

“And all by yourself?” she asked, leaning closer, eyes narrowing.

“While I would like to take all the credit for slaying the troll, I am fortunate to have a boon from Thor which assists me in such–”

Akrini crossed the six feet that had separated them in a moment, her plate gauntlet grabbing one of Einar’s shoulders as she pulled him closer. She breathed heavily, her breath smelling of honey and something else as she bent down, her nose so close Einar was sure Avitue might challenge the dwarf if she got closer.

“You claim to have a boon from Thor?! Can you prove this?”

Clearing his throat, Einar slowly lifted his hand and gently pushed against her plated chest. “I would be happy to show you a small glimpse of the power that I possess, but perhaps you might give me a little more room before my wife asks us to draw a square.”

The Captain glanced up and Einar saw her eyes widen.

Letting go of his shoulder, Akrini cleared her throat before frowning. “Forgive me… I… I might have gotten carried away. I mean no disrespect. Just for a Viking to possess a boon of Thor… that is a very special thing.”

“Aye,” Stenri stated. “How can you prove to us that you have a boon from Thor?”

Einar smiled and leaned to the left so he could see Fotgor. “Mystic Fotgor, can I ask a question regarding lighting and your people's ability to use it?”

The older dwarf smiled and nodded, moving to the side and forward so that Einar didn’t have to lean so much to see him. “Lightning is a very difficult element to control as your people should know. We dwarves have a special place in our hearts for Thor and yet we struggle to control lightning as he does. Are you asking me how you can prove you have a boon from Thor?”

“I am. Are you able to sense it in another or do I need to prove it a different way?” Einar asked.

The smile on the older dwarf’s face grew. “There are a few different methods that I can think of to test for a boon, but I would rather see for myself if what you are implying is something you can do. Can you channel lightning?”

Einar moved till he was a dozen yards away from everyone in the open courtyard.  Some chuckles had come from the Vikings behind him as the other pack leaders, Skardi and Thorodd, all watched the interaction taking place.

Closing his eyes, Einar called upon his wyrd, holding the axe the elves had gifted him in his right hand.

Thor… I could use a little help.

Raising his axe above his head, Einar drew upon the rage he had controlled in the cave just a day ago.  He could sense the presence of the lightning there at the outer edges of his control.  

Unlike so many of the previous times where it had been impossible to grasp but in those moments of absolute rage, it waited for Einar to approach.  Like grabbing a metal rod that had one end resting in a fire, knowing that it would hurt, Einar grabbed hold of the elemental power and commanded it into his core.

Lightning raced through him, wanting to flood every bit of his body.  Yet not wanting to do that, Einar focused all the power upward into his axe.  His wyrd began to quickly diminish under the strain of the lightning as well as the fact that he wasn’t simply bathing in it, letting it fill his entire being. The effort it took to focus it into the metal head of his axe was far greater than doing so with fire.

As the power built up, Einar opened his eyes, witnessing the ball of lightning arcing from his weapon.  With a shout, he pumped his arm, thrusting upward with the axe, hoping what he was trying to make happen would.

The lighting erupted from the weapon, shooting upward into the sky, racing towards the clouds above like it was returning home.

His body felt drained, and Einar took a few deep breaths, trying not to show how difficult that had been.

Thank you Thor… I am grateful for your help and assistance. May I honor you in all I do.

Lowering his weapon, Einar turned and saw the expressions on the faces of the five dwarves and even his own Vikings.  Vrádni, Streni, and Akrini each had their mouths open.  Fotgror was smiling, nodding slightly.  

“That is more than enough proof,” the Mystic said, shattering the silence. “Let any dwarf who questions that the gods send these Vikings to help us speak with me. I shall gently remind them never to question my word.”

“It’s true,” Akrini said, her voice almost a whisper. “Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes, I would argue that Fotgror was old and seeing things.”

Vrádni started to laugh and slapped the Captain on her back. “And that would have been a fun conversation to have witnessed. Now then, if there is nothing else to show off, Einar did mention to me that there would be some drinking. After that display of power, I could use one.”

“If you all will join me,” Avitue said, motioning toward some oversized chairs near a table that held a few casks, as well as some food. “I’ll give each of you five the first drink.”

Every dwarf but Fotgror moved, seemingly shaken from the state they had been standing in.  The Mystic walked toward Einar and stopped a few feet away, smiling.

“So… Einar Sibbison,” Fotgror said quietly. “It would appear you are the one he has sent.”

Blinking, Einar saw the grin the older dwarf displayed and a spark ignited in his mind.

[ Thor’s Chosen has found you. ]

“You’re the one I’m supposed to seek out,” Einar whispered, glancing to ensure no one else was approaching. 

“And you’re the one I was told would be coming,” the dwarf replied. “I must admit I wasn’t certain it could have been true. I cannot tell you how many thousands of years it has been since Thor spoke with me but when he came and said that one marked by him would arrive and need my aid… well I was concerned I might pass away before that day came.  And yet here you stand before me.”

“So… how does this work?” Einar asked, chuckling. “I have to admit, when he told me that there would be someone here to assist, I wasn’t sure what that meant.”

A weathered and wrinkled hand was extended and Einar shook it.

“What it means is I will do everything I can to help you and your people find the items you need and I shall spend some time with you trying to help unlock your potential,” Fotgror said. “I can tell you are like a bucket that has emptied itself of all the water in it. While the sides are still wet, there is little left to get from that vessel.  You are the same right now. The Wyrd as your people call it, has been drained dry by that little show of yours.  Tell me, did you know for certain that would happen?”

Unable to hold back, Einar laughed and shook his head. 

“Honestly, no. I might have prayed to Thor for a little help beforehand, but it felt like the easiest way to show I had his blessing. Killing the Troll King granted me a permanent boon from Thor which is supposed to aid me in controlling lightning.  I’m certain that without that boon, I couldn’t have done what I did.”

The older dwarf blinked twice, and then his silver eyes widened.  “You’re serious? You have a permanent boon?”

Grinning, Einar nodded. 

“I do. I wouldn’t lie about such a thing.”

Fotgror took a deep breath and blew it out so hard his beard and mustache fluttered.

“A Viking with a permanent boon from Thor… I… I do not think that has happened in all my years of living.  For such a blessing… Ragnarok is truly upon us… Tell me, Einar Sibbison, how long do we have?”

Gone was the smile and the joy that Einar had been filled with.

“I wish I knew, but I’m afraid it is already knocking at the doors of all the realms. Time is running short and we are not prepared for what is coming at all. I’m assuming you know of the situation back in our realm?”

The Mystic nodded and frowned.

“Come, let us get a drink before my brothers and sister consume everything, not caring that I would miss out. After that, you and I need to speak in private somewhere. There is much we need to discuss.”

Einar nodded and motioned to the table and chairs, where the sounds of merriment could be heard.

“Don’t worry. If they drink it all, I have some of my own that we can share without them.”

A massive hand clapped Einar on his shoulder as the Mystic laughed.

“Someone has trained you well,” Fotgror said. “Any Viking who knows to offer a dwarf a cask of something without having to share understands how greedy we can sometimes be.”