Legacy (Book One of the Ærndis Trilogy)

Chapter 1

980 A.D. – Svealand (Sweden)

Though an immortal with the authority of The Fates vested in her, Ærndis came to lament her status as a norn, though she was not entirely unhappy. She relished being an immortal and having immense power bestowed upon her. Nevertheless, she almost equally longed for the physical pleasures, joys, and desires of mortality.

Even to the casual observer, Ærndis was an instantly captivating woman - the kind men had fought wars over stretching back into the mists of time. Through mortality and immortality, Ærndis had been the object of desire for both gods and mortal men. The youthful vibrancy of her face, partially hidden by flowing locks of silky blonde hair, and the timeless reserves of innocence locked into her deep blue eyes, betrayed her ages of wisdom and power. It was, after all, this exquisite and unique combination of enticing beauty and prodigious wisdom that first attracted the interests of The Fates and compelled them to recruit her as one of their own. Even so, her beauty and her wisdom alone were not enough, by themselves, to instantly separate her from other norns.

Many a norn had stolen the hearts of god and man with their beauty, just as many had also outwitted even the most cunning of men. In Ærndis, however, there existed a rare confluence of these and other intangibles, making her unique among her sister immortals. Possessed of a potent, headstrong persistence, once she had determined a path or course of action, nothing and no one could dissuade or block her from seeing it through to fruition. Ærndis was also possessed of a fierce sense of independence, an attribute which proved to be both a gift and a curse, particularly in light of her position as a subordinate to The Fates. Somewhat ironically, the one characteristic that perhaps best defined Ærndis was her ethereal aura of danger. This was not the kind of danger that overtly manifested itself in face-to-face confrontations, but, rather, would seep into the reservoirs of the subconscious mind, giving those who knew her a subtle yet vaporous and inexplicable sense of uneasiness.

Though possessed of all she was and all she had to offer, she came to covet and long for the more immediate, tangible pleasures of mortality. Though other norns rather disdainfully defined the essence of mortality by its inherent lack of longevity, power and wisdom, to Ærndis this was more than compensated for by the kinds of physical pleasures and sensory-rich experiences for which she yearned.

Besieged by this endless, unquenchable quest for mortal-immortal duality, Ærndis supposed she was being too dramatic, as the Fates often claimed. After all, she reminded herself, how many mortal women would jump at the opportunity for immortality and to be given the power to govern the lives and destinies of heroic men? Ærndis laughed to herself that, given her current state of internal unrest and the potential scope for mortal-immortal calamity, she may very well end up having a saga written about her. A tragedy, no doubt, she concluded.

Ærndis moved across time and dimension toward Lake Mälaren to catch a glimpse of the man whose fate she had presently been charged to govern. Many times before, she had been sent to survey personalities soon to be engaged in battle; personalities whose destinies would be determined and watched over in battle by her and fellow norns. The Three Fates had previously spoken of an important battle which was to take place at Fýrisvellir near Lake Mälaren. This battle, they said, would be unlike any of the other expeditions and raids which Ærndis had been previously tasked to adjudicate. This would not only be a battle of Viking against Viking on their own ground, but the opposing armies would be led by two men from the same blood-line, with the rights to the throne of Svealand hanging in the balance.

Urdh, Verdandi, and Skuld had commissioned Ærndis to oversee the battle and execute the just fate of Svealand’s King Eric. Ultimately, it was decided – as Skuld counseled Ærndis that Eric was to meet his death at this battle. Given the history and circumstances surrounding his claim to the throne, it was determined he should be stripped of his realm by the hand of his nephew, whose rightful claim to the throne he had denied.

Chapter 2

Ærndis had paid little attention to the details of the impending battle rehearsed to her by the Three Fates. As usual, she would faithfully execute her duties as a norn, even while she longed for the pleasures of mortality. Perhaps she took her immortal powers over the destinies of men for granted – she had even admitted as much to herself, but her inability to quench her longing for access to the mortal palette of desires and lusts seemed to belie her ageless wisdom and inherent knowledge of good and bad, justice and mercy, and loyalty and treason – or at least insofar as these concepts were interpreted and implemented by Odin, Thor, and the Fates. And so, attending to her immortal duties, she went to observe the Svear King ahead of his impending demise at her hands as ordered by the Fates.

Ærndis caught her first glimpse of King Eric as he stood on the shore at the mouth of Lake Mälaren looking down the Södertälje River. Oddly, she took a moment to remind herself her presence would be veiled from his mortal eyes, not that he could have seen her anyway through the dense concealment of the forest. After consciously reaffirming the obvious optical barrier between mortality and immortality, Ærndis took a moment to marvel at her own absurdity.

Of course he wouldn’t be able to see me, Ærndis chided herself. The only time mortal men are allowed to see an immortal is when it is expressly allowed by the Gods or the Fates.

Her momentary lapse of reason frankly surprised and baffled her. She chalked it up to the strange, unusual feelings she experienced as she approached Lake Mälaren. As she beheld the expanse of Riddarfjärden bay, with Lake Mälaren invitingly calling in the near distance, her mind momentarily drifted to inventory the curious dynamic and almost ethereal quality of her present emotions. If the feelings and emotions which comprised the mortal definitions of love and romance could be transliterated into a geographical representation, Ærndis was convinced that Mälaren and its environs would be her one true love. The lush green hues of the surrounding forests and the varying blue shades of the pristine waters cut through Ærndis’ sinews of ageless wisdom and struck her with a resonance she couldn’t recall having experienced in ages. Yet, something in the catacombs of her subconscience hinted that her current feast of Earth-induced visual euphoria was but a portent of a more overwhelming episode of sensory overload which presently lay just beyond her cognitive fingertips.

From the first moment she saw him, Ærndis felt powerfully drawn to King Eric. Having so often been the object of desire herself, she was startled by the clarity of sensory stimuli she was experiencing with her powerful, all-encompassing, instant attraction to this mortal man. She momentarily imagined the similar sensations experienced by the men who had so relentlessly pursued her in the past, all of whom she had summarily dismissed. Now, she had gained a first-hand perspective of just how defining and powerful those feelings and desires could be.

In fact, had the Fates not mentioned a word to her about this man, Ærndis thought, she would have nevertheless instantly recognized him as a unique leader among mortal men.

It was obvious to Ærndis from the first look that Eric possessed more than just the usual physical attributes of the typical Viking warrior. Possessed of the extrasensory perceptions of an immortal, she could literally feel the strength her eyes beheld. In stark contrast to her continuing inner-struggle over the coarse sensations of mortality, she conceded that immortality held its own, deeper sensations which the mortal being could not comprehend, let alone replicate and, more to the point, appreciate. Ærndis acknowledged that what she was feeling at the present was a unique, indescribable spectrum of stimuli she would regret not having access to as a mere mortal.

As a norn, particularly possessed of powers and insights generously bestowed upon her as a chosen proxy of the Fates, Ærndis was able to transform what would be crudely defined in mortal terms as visual, auditory, olfactory or taste stimuli into a broader, holistic, all-encompassing experience. While mortals could visually behold the same scene as she had just experienced over Mälaren and Riddarfjärden, Ærndis could – in a deeper metaphysical sense – simultaneously feel, taste and hear the beauty her eyes beheld. Likewise, as she looked upon her subject, King Eric, she could actually feel, touch, taste and hear his strength, in a way only another immortal could understand.

She could imagine the scores of inferior men that had met their end by the sword he firmly held in his grasp. Obviously blessed with unusual strength and stature, the cut of Eric’s physique spoke to Ærndis of a nearly inexhaustible endurance. For Eric, this was an added blessing of Odin’s which had many times seen him take to battle by the emerging glint of the morning sun and continue without rest until the last of the orb’s mid-summer Scandinavian rays had faded below the opposite horizon. Beyond his physical attributes, Ærndis perceived in Eric a mind that was strategically and tactically gifted as to the ways of war, yet balanced with a wise perception which was keen to the fruits of diplomacy, all of which had served him well as king, allowing him to expand his realm and gain the loyalty of subjects at nearly every turn.

If she were able to return to the mortal realm, Ærndis thought, this is exactly the man for whom she would freely cast aside her supernatural powers and give away her immortality. Still, as even she would freely admit, Ærndis was never one, as a human or a norn, to settle for the consequences of a decision when something more could be gained by acquiring the attractive rewards encompassed by both sides of a choice. This was another characteristic that defined the unique gifts and powers of immortality; but one which Ærndis, in her rush to satiate her quest for mortal lusts and desires, too easily overlooked.

As the Fates had counseled Ærndis and her fellow norns, on the whole, mortals are drawn to instinctively reinforce thoughts and behaviors which result in positive stimuli, likewise shunning those which evoke negative stimuli. Nevertheless, the strength and clarity of negative stimuli can be as defining and powerful for mortals as positive ones – sometimes even more so. The Gods and the Fates had seen mortals succumb to the refining, clarifying power of negative stimuli, and even become addicted to it. Though seemingly counterintuitive, it explained why some mortals became addicted to heartbreak – indulging in love affairs which they knew beforehand would not last and, more than likely, would result in bitter, damaging separation; conflict – readily fighting and arguing with those who otherwise they held dear, even to the point of generating artificial reasons for initiating conflict; and intentionally engineering defeat when victory was well within their grasp. There was something powerful and addictive about the mortal sensation of pain that Ærndis could not fully appreciate.

Such were the underlying textures and dynamics which affected the vicious circle of conflict and inner struggle which engulfed Ærndis. Mortality and immortality each possessed a palette of powers, emotions, feelings, experiences and adventures that were unique to their own respective spheres. Eventually, as one traveled the paths of mortality and gained immortality, they would experience the full range of characteristics. The problem being, what was consigned to mortality rested in mortality, just as that which was characteristic of immortality stayed in that realm. To experience both simultaneously was forbidden, equally because of the damage a violent, base, and lustful mortal could inflict when blessed with the powers, insights and metaphysical gifts of an immortal. Ærndis didn’t care about what was forbidden; she wanted both.

At that moment – holding King Eric inside a thousand-meter stare – a seemingly absurd temptation entered Ærndis’ thoughts causing her to physically lurch backwards and let out a muffled gasp. The stir pricked Eric’s subconscious mind, causing him to whirl around and alertly survey his surroundings. Ærndis felt ridiculous as she – again momentarily forgetting the veil which shielded her from his mortal eyes – crouched down behind the girth of a fallen tree. At last, after several moments, she composed herself and departed.

Ærndis instantly knew the very concept of her idea ran counter to the laws of the Gods and the Fates. Yet, Ærndis reasoned, the Fates were neither omniscient nor omnipresent, as evidenced by their apparent need to dispatch norns like her to oversee the outcomes of battles and the destinies of men. Even Odin and Thor, Ærndis convinced herself, had their limitations. If the Fates themselves were fallible, how could they claim to make definitive decisions about men without making mistakes of their own?

And so, Ærndis’ dangerous plan was hatched. If it was the immortal powers of a norn and the physical pleasures of a human she simultaneously desired, perhaps there was a way she could obtain both.

In order for her plot to succeed, she would have to win the heart of Eric, obtain his love, and produce by him a son, who through his interworldly lineage would have at his disposal all the powers of mortality and immortality. As his mother, and in companionship with Eric, Ærndis would wield unprecedented influence over affairs in both realms. By taking part in this union, Eric would have the use of Ærndis’ supernatural powers to expand his earthly kingdom over all mankind. Moreover, their son would inherently possess both the mortal strength of his father and the immortality of his mother, allowing him to eventually place himself alongside Odin and Thor in the realm of deity. As the ruling matriarch, Ærndis would have at her disposal all the powers, pleasures and passions of heaven and earth to quench her most noble and most base desires.

Seemingly impossible to successfully engineer upon her initial consideration, the idea grew more and more plausible as Ærndis took careful note of every possible obstacle and skillfully planned the necessary means to overcome and, in most cases, avoid them. She continued with this obsession until she had worked out the path to her success, except for the one variable she was not able to solely control: Eric’s love for her.

Eric, a devout subject of Odin, would never knowingly contravene the laws of the Gods or the will of The Fates and wittingly submit himself to a forbidden union with a norn. To do so, would be to draw the ire of both and lose all that he had amassed: The throne of Svealand, his expanding kingdom, and his reputation.

Eric’s devotion to her, Ærndis concluded, would require extraordinarily skillful maneuvering on her part, possibly laced with some clever deception, maybe even some indiscretion if need be. Yet with so much to gain, she grew comfortable with the idea that the end would ultimately justify the means. At once, she knew exactly when, where and how she would engineer her opportunity.

Chapter 3

Eric had been king of Svealand for a decade and had done much to expand his realm. When he took the throne, his kingdom consisted of only the territory around Lake Mälaren, the Uppland and some of the neighboring provinces, including the lands inhabited by the Götar around Lake Vättern. Just ten years hence, Eric ruled a kingdom that extended far down the Baltic Sea coast. Unlike the violent Norwegian and Danish invasions to the west in Britain and Ireland, Eric’s stunning success to the east was largely due to his knack for strategic diplomacy which he skillfully used to gain alliance with the peasants against the nobility. To be sure, he had participated in more than his share of battles, but so far had never been forced to lift his sword in the ultimate defense of his own kingdom.

This coming battle at Fýrisvellir would be no ordinary engagement. The man who had come to remove Eric from power, Styrbjörn the Strong, was not only a native Svear, but moreover, his own nephew – the son of his brother the previous Svear king, Olof.

Styrbjörn had made himself the ruler of the Jomsvikings - Viking mercenaries who would fight for any lord able to pay for their services. With the Jomsvikings under his command, Styrbjörn wanted to amass an even greater force in order to take the crown of Svealand, which had been denied him at his father’s death in 970 A.D.; a death by poisoning for which he, and many others, had long suspected his uncle Eric. Upon Olof’s death, the crown was to be passed to Styrbjörn, the rightful heir of the bloodline. However, Eric skillfully convinced the people that Styrbjörn was too rowdy and unruly to serve as their king. As such, the people proclaimed their loyalty to Eric.

As The Fates had given the responsibility of overseeing Eric’s fate to Ærndis, they wisely selected Róta to protect the fate of Styrbjörn. Róta was a benevolent norn who had deftly and skillfully engineered the destinies of several Viking warriors whose rightful outcome appeared bleak. In Róta, The Fates were confident they had chosen the one norn they knew could assist Styrbjörn on his quest to obtain what was rightfully his.

At age 20, having been denied his rightful inheritance by his uncle, Styrbjörn left Svealand and vented his anger as he raided throughout the shores of the Baltic Sea, which provided traction for Eric’s unlawful claim. After seizing control of the Baltic stronghold of Jomsborg, Styrbjörn assembled an army of Jomsvikings by forging a contract with them by which he would pay for their loyalty; but Styrbjörn had no desire to stay and rule at Jomsborg.

Styrbjörn and the Jomsvikings headed for the newly-created kingdom of Denmark where they pillaged and looted far and wide. With his country and subjects being ravaged and destroyed, the Danish king, Harald Bluetooth, negotiated a settlement with Styrbjörn by which he gave Styrbjörn his daughter Tyra. Temporarily appeased, Styrbjörn returned to the coast of his homeland, while continuing to plot the overthrow of his uncle. After Styrbjörn and Tyra’s marriage in the Gothic lands of southern Sweden and the birth of their first son, Styrbjörn sailed back to Denmark with 1000 longships. He forced the Danes to give him 200 more ships along with all those among them he saw fit to join him in battle, including King Harald himself.

Chapter 4

In the course of assembling his army of conscripted Danes to augment his already formidable army of Jomsvikings, a situation occurred in which Styrbjörn – one not known for his compassion for others unless it would clearly result in some distinct advantage for himself, usually in the form of money or treasure – had risked his own life to save a young lad from certain death. While Styrbjörn was overseeing preparations to one of his longships, a young man fishing the cove from a nearby outcropping of coastal rocks, became overwhelmed by the force of the crashing waves. Styrbjörn turned to look just as the boy lost his footing and fell, hitting his head on the rock’s ledge and falling unconscious into the cove’s foaming surf.

Perhaps out of instinct, more than calculated thought, Styrbjörn leapt from the ship and as he headed toward the boy, yelling to a small handful of his men to put to sea in the small boarding boat that was tied to the longship and to position themselves to retrieve the boy should the tide carry him out to sea. Quickly retrieving the lad, Styrbjörn pulled him onto the shore and revived him by forcing the water from his lungs. Cutting a strip of cloth from his shirt, Styrbjörn compressed the lad’s head wound to stop the bleeding. Shaken and disoriented by his brush with death, the lad struggled to his feet and used Styrbjörn’s shoulder to steady himself.

In response to Styrbjörn’s inquiry, the lad said his name was Fjalar Ingmarsson and that his home lay on the heights overlooking the coastline directly above the cove; Styrbjörn personally saw to it that he made it there safely. As the pair approached the house, Fjalar’s father, Ingmar Jönsson, came outside with sword in hand. Even from a distance, Styrbjörn was easily recognizable around Denmark, having so profoundly established his reputation for bloodshed. Only when the two had nearly reached him, did Ingmar realize his son was injured and that Styrbjörn was helping him.

Suspiciously thanking Styrbjörn for his assistance, Ingmar cautiously invited him inside. Only after they were seated with vessels of locally-brewed ale in hand, did Styrbjörn recount to Ingmar the events which had just transpired at the cove.

I owe you a great debt of gratitude, Ingmar said, "and I apologize for my suspicious behavior, but a man with a family can’t be too careful in this