Loki Jarl: A Viking Saga of Betrayal and Fate by Black Charles

Author:Black, Charles
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-02-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Ólafr adjusted his gear and gave Ragnar a reassuring nod. “We’ve done what we needed. Now we make for home.”

Ragnar glanced back once more at the realm of the elves. The beauty of Alfheim had not escaped him—the endless fields, the lush green forests, the calm air. It was all so peaceful. A stark contrast to what they had faced, and what they were about to face in Midgard. But peace could only last so long. And Ragnar had a feeling that peace was about to be shattered. With a deep breath, Ragnar stepped into the rift. The familiar sensation of chilly air rushing through his body as the world shifted was nothing new now. As the world of Alfheim blurred, it was replaced with the rocky, harsh landscape of Midgard. They were back.

The winds of Midgard hit them immediately, colder and more biting than they remembered. The earth beneath their feet felt firmer, more solid, and the distant mountains loomed dark and imposing. There was no mistaking where they were now. The familiar scent of the northern forests mingled with the scent of saltwater from the nearby coasts. This was home—yet nothing felt the same. They paused for a moment, taking in their surroundings, as if grounding themselves back in their own realm. It had been some time since they had ventured into the world beyond. They had seen and learned much, but now they needed to return to the reality of their mission. Ragnar glanced at Ólafr, a silent question in his eyes.

Ólafr, ever practical, gave him a firm look. “Let’s go. No time to waste.”

Ragnar nodded, the weight of the Glove on his hand still reminding him of their recent trials. The stone, once cold and unyielding, now pulsed faintly with power. The runes etched into it seemed to glow with a faint energy—less threatening than before, but still potent. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down. Together, they began the journey toward the jarl’s stronghold. The road was long and rough, but they were used to the terrain. They moved swiftly, taking familiar paths, passing through small villages and hunting camps along the way. The people gave them wary glances, recognizing the travellers, but said little. It wasn’t uncommon for strangers to pass through these lands, but it was rare for travellers to carry such a weight as Ragnar did now. The path to the jarl’s stronghold grew steeper as they neared their destination, and Ragnar’s thoughts began to turn toward what they would find there. The jarl had been eager for their return, no doubt expecting reports of what had transpired. Ragnar wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell him—how much he should reveal. The knowledge they had gained in Jötunheim was dangerous, and the Glove… the Glove was something that needed to be handled with care.

“Do you think he’ll understand?” Ólafr asked, breaking Ragnar from his thoughts.

Ragnar met Ólafr’s gaze. “I don’t know. But he needs to. The Jarl needs to understand what we’ve learned.

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