The First Talisman

“I’m not going any further.” Amanda stamped her foot. “I’m cold, I’m tired, I’m hungry and I’m sick of dodging in and out of these pine trees; and you can shut up too Cat Skard.”

Amanda sat down heavily. She had been building up to this for some time. The way had been hard. They’d begun by walking along the shoreline, but over the last two hours had battled upwards through the pine forest, which stretched dark and forbidding as far as the eye could see. The initial delight of throwing pine cones at one another and the fresh pine smell had quickly worn off. Occasionally they had emerged into small, open patches of ground, but the men had swiftly moved them across these and into the trees again.

The girls had tried to keep up but every now and then they’d had to be roughly picked up and piggybacked by the men. Cat and Sharon dropped down gratefully alongside Amanda. Even Kiert had tumbled down alongside them, breathing heavily.

“We cannot rest. We must move on. It is not much further. Come.” The girls opened their mouths to protest, but closed them again as they saw the serious look on the Viking warrior’s face. Once more they trailed into the dark woodland. An hour past. The party slowed as another opening appeared before them. In the shadows of the late afternoon they could make out the dark, solid shape of a wooden hut, and the sound of a trickling stream came from nearby. The girls began to relax. The sounds of the men’s swords being drawn alerted them again. As they stood, bright amber lights appeared in the shadows around the hut. They reminded Cat of the solar garden lights at home. As she watched the lights seemed to draw nearer. Hairs rose vertically on the back of her neck and on her arms. Out of the blurred shadows came wolves – huge grey and menacing.

The men held up their shields, forming a protective wall around the children, swords at the ready as the wolves slowly began to circle the party. Minutes passed as men and animals tested each other trying to get an advantage. Inside the ‘wall’ the children also drew their swords, though Cat wasn’t all that convinced about their fighting skills. As she watched the wolves slowly begin to advance, she could see bright pink gums below snarling lips. Sharp white teeth glinted and all the while the eyes glowed amber.

Then suddenly they were on the men. Swords swung this way and that in broad strokes, bodies of animals being tossed away only to be replaced by the next ferocious animal. For an instant, a hole appeared in the human wall and before it could be closed four wolves leapt through. Slowly they padded towards the children. Kiert sprang forward swinging his sword and shouting loudly. Terrified and trembling, the three girls joined him. They stood, backs together, facing the animals with swords held in front of them. The wolves, sure of themselves, padded forward, standing just out of reach of the swords. Then they attacked. The children stood their ground, swinging their swords as best they could. They failed to kill any animals, but nevertheless managed to keep them at bay. Cat’s wrist and arm ached, for the sword was heavy and she was not used to such physical effort.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the attack stopped. The wolves stood, still out of reach, panting heavily, saliva hanging in strings from their muzzles, their shaggy sides heaving in and out. The sounds of fighting had ceased. All that could be heard was the heavy breathing of man and animals.

From out of the gloom came THE most enormous wolf the children had ever seen. It seemed to be as huge as a male lion, indeed the fur around its neck stuck out like a mane, framing the huge head with its evil amber eyes and wickedly sharp, equally large teeth. Paws as big as dinner plates silently brought the animal towards them.

“Fenrir.” The name was murmured as the wolf passed through the wall of men and paced around the children, stopping in front of Cat. She looked, mesmerized, into the eyes.

“I know of your quest Cat Skard.” The words formed in Cat’s head, though she knew the wolf had not physically spoken.

“There have been many sagas told since the dawn of time but without the magic of the ring they have been altered in the telling. Some, like the Skard in your group, regret this but others find enjoyment in such changes. Loki, for instance, is now seen as an entertaining, if mischievous god by those who read about his deeds. He has lost his evil persona and now has more power than he ever had before.

We know you and your friends intend to return to the original events so that you may return the sacred amulet to Sigurd and use the magic of the ring to bring the stories gloriously unaltered to your time. This cannot be allowed. We will lose too much power.”

The wolf broke off to pace around the children, again gazing deep into their eyes.

“Mmn, dangerous yet brave for ones so young. And you with your magic and your ring are the most dangerous to us. You will not succeed.”

The sentence finished with a snarl, then back through the men he padded while the remaining wolves moved to attack positions again.

“G.G... Get r... ready,” Amanda whispered, her knuckles white where she held the sword tightly.

“No. Wait.”

A clear command from Cat. She took one hand away from the hilt of her sword and plunged it into her pocket. She pulled out a long silken thread. The children held their breath as they watched the dainty thread rise gently into the air, hang there momentarily before darting between the wolves’ legs, tying them tightly together. Straining hard and snarling and snapping, the animals were unable to move. The children made the most of the situation, rapidly moving away while the Viking warriors dispatched the snarling beasts.

Tiredly, the party moved towards the security of the hut, sheathing their swords as they went.

“Who... Who was that?” stammered Sharon, dragging her feet the last few yards to safety.

“That was Fenrir. You need him neither as friend nor as enemy. He is one of three children to the God Loki, himself an evil, treacherous one.”

Once inside, the hut doors were barred, guards sat on duty and the fires were lit. Soon the flames burned brightly, meat roasted and all was cosy. The enormity of the past struggle had left the children shaky and tired, and in the warmth of the fire they dozed while the warriors cleaned and sharpened weapons.

The noise of wooden bowls being banged and the smell of food brought Sharon out of her dream state. Through partly opened eyes, she watched in disbelief as knives, spoons, bowls and food flew across the room to settle on the table. Slowly she pushed herself up onto jelly legs, and then wobbled towards a bench. As she sat, horns of wine flew past and meat turned in the flame by invisible hands.

The Viking Skard came to sit beside her.

“You look bemused.”

“Right!” Sharon shook her head; not the most intelligent of replies but at the moment it was all she could manage.

“When the warm air blown from the land of the fire giants met the cold pouring off Niflheim, the first giant was formed, and from his flesh came elves and dwarfs. The Lias Alfar – the white elves – lived in Alfhelm under the rule of Freya; the Svart Alfar – the dark elves – lived under the rule of Wayland. Lias Alfar help in domestic chores and they are here now working for us.”

“What do they look like?” Sharon perked up, interest overcoming the tiredness she still felt.

“When they feel safe and know you better you will see them, especially you who so resemble Freya,” assured the Skard, patting her hand before joining his fellow Vikings. By now the volume of talking had increased and raucous laughter had begun to filter into the conversations. Sharon, watching them, put it down to the number of horns of wine they were consuming. The noise penetrated into the other children’s sleep, for all three stirred and began the waking process. Slowly they emerged from their cloaks and came to sit alongside Sharon at the table.

“I’m starving.” Amanda grabbed a lump of bread and meat, stuffing as much of it into her mouth as she could.

“You’re always starving,” said Cat, but she too grabbed a hefty lump of crusty bread and began to devour it greedily. All around the table chunks of meat, bread and thick fish soup disappeared as quickly as it had been spirited up. The children ate steadily, sipping watered down wine, pulling faces at its taste but enjoying its warmth as it chased the food down.

Loud belching filled the room as men finished their meals and sat back relaxing. Kiert followed suit, a small but definitely noisy belch issuing from his mouth. The men cheered. The girls disapproved. As unseen hands cleared the table, fists pounded the wooden surface.

“Skard, a story before turning in.”

The children settled themselves; they were beginning to enjoy these sagas.

“Odin was the chief of the Aesir, God of war and intelligence. He was handsome even though he had only one eye, for the other one he had sacrificed to gain his wisdom. He spoke with ease and liked to express himself in verse as laid down by the Skards. He had the power to change himself into whatever shape he wished. Odin held court in a vast hall glittering with gold, which was called ‘Valhalla’. Here he summoned to his presence the heroes who had fallen on the fields of battle. Spears formed the framework of the chamber. Gleaming shields covered the roof. Breastplates lay on the benches. In the evening, the hall was lit by the flash of swords, which reflected the huge fires burning in the midst of the tables.

“On Odin’s shoulders perched two crows; their names were ‘Hugin’ and ‘Munin’. Every morning Odin sent them far and wide to question the living and the dead, and return before breakfast to bring their master news of the great, wide world.

“With Odin in Valhalla lived our supernatural women, our Valkyries. One day a Valkyrie called Brynhild incurred the wrath of Odin, for on her way from Valhalla she landed on the earth and in human form bathed in a shady pool. A king happened to see her and, approaching the pool, seized Brynhild’s clothing. From then on she was in his power. He demanded her help in a war he was waging against an old adversary, and she had no alternative but to agree.

“Angry Odin pricked Brynhild with a magic thorn which sent her into a deep sleep. He enclosed her in a circle of flame. She could no longer return to Valhalla; she was condemned to live an earthly life. The only man who could marry her would be the fearless hero who dared ride his horse through the flames. That hero was our Sigurd.”

The Skard finished his short story to loud banging on the tables, to which the children joined in. They had enjoyed the tale and were finding out more and more about Sigurd.

The group broke up, guards changed, and then the men and children settled themselves for what they hoped would be a good night’s sleep. As she was dozing off, Sharon became aware of cloaks being pulled over her and her friends.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and just before sleep closed her eyes she saw them, tiny elves looking like beautiful young children.

“Good night, Freya Sweoster,”[1] they called, and Sharon slept soundly.

1 Sweoster = sister