Secrets of Midgard ((Story))

((Part of my latest three stories coming to my story channel on Youtube. Will post a link when editing is finished!

EDIT: Link is here: https://youtu.be/mNmqwV7QA04?si=EPcBzW7a5kTPjvpd ))

They say only the bravest of warriors ascend to Valhalla. Those who face glorious death in battle. Only they get to sit at Odin’s table, share his drink, eat his boar, and revel in the presence of heroes forever. Only those who die in battle. But what about those who face foes made not of soldiers, armour and weapons? The foes who do not fight for glory or conquest, but for hunger or destruction? Foes who bring teeth, claws and venom to bear? Foes who slide through the darkness and use the very world as their battleground?

Do the slayers of beasts also ascend?

The Karvi longship ‘Knífr’  cut through the waves like its namesake. The sound of rhythmic drums drifted over the wash as sixteen oars slammed into the ocean surface in unison, as sixteen voices also grunted in answer. It was a guttural, harsh song, and it served its purpose, for the longship sped through the water at speed, the oarsmen’s strength aided by the single, billowing sail.

Knifr’s deck was swarmed with activity as every hand worked hard to keep the ship moving. At the bow, Audor the Ironhand stood, shouting orders and pointing. The ship was under his command, and we was doing everything he could to keep it moving Karvi were smaller longships – designed for shallow water and coasting, they were among the smaller ships of Jarl Asmund’s considerable fleet. As a result they were often used for scouting and coasting, due to their shallower draft and penchant for speed. They moved up the coasts and past the various, reporting back to the greater fleet when suitable target for raiding was found.

When the battle was joined, however, Knifr’s warrior sprang from the boats with everyone else, landing in the shallow sand and rushing ashore, screaming war-cries as they joined their brethren in glorious battle. And they shared in the spoils as well, which was part of the reason for the Knifr’s current struggle – it was heavily laden with goods – precious metals and cloth stripped from the raided village.

The Knifr’s crew had done well, and several of its warriors had made names for themselves over the past raiding season. Audor, called the Ironhand for his refusal to carry a shield into battle, instead a heavy metal bracer, has crushed plenty of skulls. Birger, a young giant of a man, had earned his epithet of Jotun – a frost giant, as his expression never changed, even in the heat of glorious battle. Njard two-blade, who fought with a pair of curved foreign swords from a long-ago raid. The shieldmaiden sisters Gunhild and, the other dark Auda – called the Sol and Mani – the sun and moon, for their weapons rose and fell with deadly regularity. And, there was Erik, Erik the Axe, the veteran of more seasons than anyone on Knifr. However, whispers amongst the viking horde spoke of another nickname – Erik the unlucky, for in all his battles, he had been denied the one thing that all warriors truly yearn for – a glorious death, and a seat in Valhalla’s halls.

Thunder cracked above them, and the intensity of Audor’s orders increased. The Knifr had been separated from the rest of Jarl Asmund’s fleet, swept out to sea by unexpected currents. That was a week ago. Now, no other longship could be seen, and the small Karvi ship found itself in deep, unfamiliar waters. No charts on board had any record of where they were, and the navigators remarked that the stars looked odd. To make matters worse,

Still, the crew faced their predicament with all the enthusiasm and borderline madness Vikings were notorious for. Boisterous laughter and good-natured fights broke out constantly amongst their tasks. One foolhardy oarsman pinched Gunhild’s rear and was rewarded with a gauntleted fist breaking his nose. He fell in a shower of blood, after which both Gunhild and her sister sat on him and unmercifully pinched his rear as he writhed on the deck, laughing all the while. The Vikings roared and reveled in the spectacle.

Young viking lief has been fishing, throwing out lines made from cow intestines and multiple hooks on them. Unfortunately, no bait could be spared, so he had cut his thumb and allowed his blood to mingle with the seawater.

Something pulls hard on the line, almost pulling the young viking over, but he is strong and recovers. His shout brings the others, and they watch him struggle with the line, shouting encouragement.

Someone makes a joke about him hooking Jormungandr himself - the Midgard Serpent, who encircled all of Asgard. Mighty Thor himself had hooked the beast once, and only been stopped from landing the serpent by the intervention of Hymir the giant, who cut the line.

After a while, Lief’s arms are burning and his laughter has faded to dogged determination. The line gives a little, and he is able to pull in the first of many hooks that dangle from the line. A dark shape hovers into view below them, and the crewmate’s encouragement renews.

The line jerks sharply, and the hook pierces Lief’s hand. Before he can do anything, he is yanked forward, over the railing and into the water, vanishing from view. The other crew fall silent, some rushing to the railing. They can see nothing.

Then, a flowing red cloud of blood billows up to the surface. A single hand, still pierced by the hook, floats up, bogging gently. Something moves beneath the bloody water. Something massive.

A hiss sounds. It is a massive, grating sound that caused the Knifr’s crew to slap hands over their ears. The water beneath the longship boils and surges as something huge slides beneath it. Scales appear, giant scales several feet across one an undulating body that causes waves to strike Knifr, rocking it sharply. Audor yells for weapons, and the viking showl war-cries as they bring them to bear.

That chilling hiss is their only reply. It is Erik who sees it first, and he shouts in warning as a glowing yellow orb opens in the water to the ship’s port. It is an eye full of malevolence, and it’s slitted pupil rakes over the ship. The hiss keeps going, almost rumbling like thunder. At the massive eye slowly rises to the surface, curses and prayers are whispered. The huge head turns, facing straight towards the Knifr, and a forked tongue lashes the ocean’s surface, flicking out of a cavernous maw, past the scaled tail held in its jaws.

Cries of “The Serpent!” and “Jormungandr” fill the air as they beheld the stuff of nightmares. The world serpent himself – who is so immense he can circle the world, and hold his own tail in his mouth.

Birger was the first to act. He threw aside his sword and snatched up a spear. Leaping on to the railing, the giant viking said nothing, his face still as unmoving as stone. He drew back his arm and let fly. His throw was strong and accurate, and the vikings cheered as the spear sliced the air, streaking directly towards the glowing yellow eye. It sank in to the grip.

The hiss stopped. The vikings roared again, but it faded when they realised that the hiss had stopped, but there was no howl or screech or dry of pain. Instead, the gaping mouth opened slowly, and the serpent’s tail flicked out of its grasp, sinking out of view. The gargantuan head rose, clearing the oceans surface, and rising up towards the longship. It turned slightly,  bringing its uninjured eye to bear. The slitted pupil pointed directly towards Birger, who reclaimed his sword and brought it to bear.

The hiss started up again, starting low and ominous, and increasing in intensity. Then, With lightning speed, it struck, its massive jaws closing around Birger. Fangs punctured flesh, but Birger remained eerily silent, staring daggers at the beast as his life extinguished in a torrent of crimson blood.

Auld Ironhand screamed the order to attack, but even as the Knifr’s warriors surged forward, weapons in hand, the snake had withdrawn into the sea, taking the body of Birger with it. Barely a moment passed before the sea erupted again, and the snake struck, this time snapping the three warriors closest to the railing from the ship. The crunch of bone and the screams of men drowned out the noise of the sea. Despite the Vikings combat prowess, they now faced a threat beyond their understanding – a beast from the very pit.
It was amongst them, striking again and again. One oarsmen let out a gurgle as he was torn in half, his legs, spilling to the deck. Another made no sound at all as a tremendous reptilian coil slammed down upon him, crushing him to a pulp. The coil flicks sideways, tipped with a razor tail. It catches one bowman a glancing blow, sending him flying a hundred feet out into the sea. He never resurfaced.

Erik held tight to his axe, swinging at any scaled surface he could see. Nothing connected as the Midgard serpent tore his comrades apart. He leaped to the side as a series of immense, scaled coils came sliding up over the railing. The flowed over the Knifr’s deck like water, and any viking in their way met death. They slipped over the opposite railing, and tightened. Too late, Erik realised what the beast meant to do.

A horrible cracking sound echoed from below their feet as the coils continued to tighten, immense muscles bunching under the scales. A hapless oarsman caught within them howled as his body was slowly squeezed tight, his horrified eyes filling with blood before Valhalla claimed him. The cracking sound became louder, and with an almighty hiss from the serpent, the Knifr was torn in half. Showers of debris claimed yet more lives as the bisected longship fought to stay afloat. The serpent’s head rose between the two halves, its uninjured eye blazing yellow in the choppy seas. It opened its max and hissed in triumph.

The serpent’s hiss was answered with an almighty scream. Erik whirled, gazing across the watery chasm between the two ships pieces, and saw Auld sprinting across the ruined deck. As the serpent turned towards the sound, the viking leader launched himself from the broken railing, sailing through the air to slam into the serpent’s coils. His sword bit deep between two scales, and he was rewarded with a hiss of pain. The head came down, fangs whipping forward in a blur. Auld twisted to the side, handing from his impaled sword by one hand, and the strike missed by a hair. Baring his teeth in a snarl, he lashed out with his left arm, his iron bracer slamming into the snake’s head, catching the spear that still protruded from its eye, and snapping the shaft, driving it further into the immense head. The hiss turned to a screech, and Auld was thrown clear, landing in a heap on the deck he had jumped from.

The viking leader scrambled to his feet, snatching up another sword from the deck as the snake turned to face him, writhing in agony at the pain in his eye. Erik could have sworn he saw the serpent’s rage intensify. It swayed back and forth as it beheld the tiny any who had dared to cause it pain. The cavernous maw opened, and the two giant fangs, each as long as a man, snapped into view. Smoking green venom dripped from the tips, and the long, forked tongue darted between them.

Auld raised his sword. As the trickling venom became a torrent, he screamed ‘Valhalla!’

The surge of venom washed over Auld, and his defiant scream became a gurgle. Erik watched on in horror as his leader began to melt before his very eyes. Soon, only a half-liquid corpse remained, and the serpent lowered its head to feast.

Erik gripped his axe, saying a silent prayer that the Valkyries would find Auld and guide him to Valhalla after his defiant death. His eyes swept past the feeding snake. The Knifr was in ruins, its two halves starting to sink into the sea. Blood and body parts coated any exposed wooden surface, and only a handful of warriors and oarsmen remained.

A muttered curse from his left materialised into Njard, the shorter viking striding towards the serpent, his short swords at the ready. Erik grabbed him, pulling him close. Before the other man could protest, Erik jammed his mouth close to Njard’s ear and began speaking, almost shouting to be heard over the sea and the serpent’s hissing. The smaller man’s face split into a grin as comprehension dawned on him.

The two men separated. Erik slunk into the shadows of a ruined railing, while Njard put his agility to good use, leaping over debris and bloody remains to clamber up toe Knifr’s dragon-shaped masthead. Even as it sank, Njard stood atop the wooden prow and screamed obscenities at the serpent’s back. He punctuated this by slamming his two swords together, creating loud, sharp rings of steel.

The serpent slowly turned, the remains of Auld still clamped in its jaws. It’s remaining eye focused on Njard, who redoubled his efforts. A low, muffled hiss came from the deity. Throwing its head back, it swallowed the rest of its meal and started forward.

Erik tensed, gripping his axe. The snake came closer, eyes fixed upon Njard. And its underbelly came closer to Erik.

Gunhild and Auda stumbled into view. Both shieldmaiders were covered in blood, and Auda has a nasty cut across her scalp, but they must have realised what Njard was doing, because they joined him, standing at the base of the sinking prow, bashing their weapons against their metal-ringed shields. Their shrieks mingle with Njard’s curses.

The serpent’s maw opened slightly. Its fangs gleamed. It’s belly was now mere feet away from Erik. He hefted his axe. Raised it behind his head. Njard screamed one last curse and brandished his swords.

The water behind Njard erupted. Erik whirled around, his eyes widening. A SECOND serpent’s head shot forth, jaws slamming shut on Njard’s torso. As the fangs  punctured his ribcage, blood shot from his open mouth. The snake slammed back into the ocean, taking Njard with it.

Two serpents! Suddenly remembering the first, he whirled, only to be confronted with the empty, sinking deck. It was gone.

Gunhild’s scream tore his attention back to the prow, as a third snake had whipped out from the sea, its jaws clamping hard around the shieldmaiden’s muscular thigh. This new serpent was smaller than the other two, about the thickness of a small oak, but was no less deadly.

But the shieldmaiden sisters are not to be trifled with. Even as the snake’s head whips back and forth, mangling her limb further, Gunhild’s axe slams down upon it’s scaly brow, embedding itself into the reptilian skin with a crunch. Auda’s shield slams down upon the weapon, further burying it into the serpent’s skull. The snake’s blazing eyes went out, and it’s head slipped under the waves, its long, sinewy body following it. The remaining Vikings who saw let loose a war-cry.

Erik’s cry faded, however, as the dead serpent’s tail floated into view. It had a strange lump attached to it. His eyes widened in horror as the lump opened two yellow, slitted eyes. It was another serpent, grasping the tail  of the dead one.

The dreadful truth behind the Midgard serpent became clear to Erik then. The legends were wrong. This was not one immense snake that circled the world. No, Jorumgand was a LEGION – a ravenous army of horrific reptiles that linked together to form the slithering chain of the pit itself!

Gunhild tried to twist away as the new snake lunged at her, but the venom in her blood slowed her movements. She could only moan as twin fangs sank into her legs once again, and her legs buckled as she was yanked from the prow.

Her sister did not give up so easily. Casting aside her sword, Auda grasper her sister with her right hand, slamming her shield against the serpent again and a gain with her left. For a moment, it seems that she would prevail. Then, another serpent’s head split the waves to latch on to the twitching Gunhild, and both shieldmaidens were pulled beneath the waves. Neither resurfaced, only a spreading cloud of blood in the churning seas.

The sinking Knifr became a maelstrom of blood, scales and seawater as snakes erupted from all sides. Men and women screamed as they were struck, taken and consumed. The hissing was a constant presence, almost like an echo in a cave. The legends spoke of the serpent’s ferocity, but not like this. This was worse.

Erik began to whisper a prayer, but a wet sliding sound came from behind him. He whirled to see a smaller serpent slithering towards him. It hissed menacingly and arched its back to strike.

Erik’s rage met the serpent’s strike head on. Fangs snapped on metal as he caught the strike with the blade of his axe. He screamed in the snake’s face, and slammed it to the deck, where it thrashed in the slowly rising water. Before it could gather itself, Erik’s axe sliced its head clean off. Blood showered the viking warrior as he screamed his defiance. Several smaller snakes came at him, drawn by the sound. He took them head on, and they found out first hand WHY Erik the axe had survived for so long. Soon, serpent blood flowed in rivulets, and Erik stood in chest deep water, ringed with floating reptilian corpses.

A massive tail snapped out of the ocean, slamming into Erik’s torso with the force of a thunderclap. The world spun as he flew through the air, landing with a tumbling crash into the swiling ocean. His chest constricted, broken ribs grating against his lungs as he vomited blood. Despite this, his fingers stayed clasper around his axe hilt as Erik clawed his way to the surface. Every pull was agony, and he screamed  as his head broke the surface, the first huge breath setting his chest afire. He reached out with his free hand and snagged a piece of floating debris. His long hair flew as he whipped his head this way and that, seeking the Knifr. But it was gone. Claimed by the sea.

And the Serpents.

Dozens of colossal serpent heads emerged from the tumultuous waves, their malevolent gaze fixated solely upon him. The air was thick with the cacophony of their hissing, a sound so intense it seemed to overpower even the crashing of the ocean waves. Each sinuous head swayed ominously, creating a daunting spectacle that sent shivers down his spine. In that moment, he felt a profound sense of isolation, as if he were the solitary focus of their predatory attention amidst the vast expanse of the sea. But he was Erik the Axe. He was a warrior. And the time had finally come for him to face his warrior’s death.

The closes serpent opened its cavernous maw. Venom dripped from its fangs and smoked as it hit the ocean’s surface. It had only one eye, a broken spear haft protruding from the other. Erik grinned and spat blood at the snake. He raised his axe, screaming a final war cry. Valhalla!

The one-eyed serpent’s mouth closed. The giant head cocked to the side. It stared at Erik for a long time, its reptilian gaze drowning out even the hissing of the legion around it. Erik felt a chill then, for he thought he saw a spark on intelligence in that cold, slitted eye. The fanged jaws opened again, but this time only slightly. Almost like a grin.

The one-eyed serpent withdrew, slipping soundlessly below the waves. Its legion followed, grasping one another’s tails, forming the giant Midgard Serpent of legend, true to all except the single man who beheld them.

As the serpents slithered back into the depths, The chilling realization dawned upon him - there would be no death in battle, no glorious entry into Valhalla. The cursed serpent had robbed him of his chance for eternal glory, leaving him to drown and die in this unforgiving sea. Never to see the hallowed halls. Never to feast with his departed brethren. Never to behold the afterlife he had lusted for since his first battle. The serpents has assured he would die here, alone. Forgotten, and the Secret of Midgard would die with him.  

Erik the Unlucky threw back his head and wailed his anguish into the stormy skies, alone amidst the bloody waters of Midgard.