The Seer of Midgard by A. M. Vedsø Olesen

Author:A. M. Vedsø Olesen [A. M. Vedsø Olesen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: F
Publisher: SAGA Egmont
Published: 2023-04-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 38

Ragnfrid was in her house when the attack began. Warned by the sound of horns, she knew it was already too late for her to reach safety when she heard them. She lived outside the town walls.

She hurriedly grabbed her dagger and her seidhr staff and ran out of the house. She lived southwest of the town, and she could see the enemy approaching from the north. She could still manage to get away. But their roar grew in strength. She didn’t have long.

The rain poured down on her as she ran past the burial mounds and further in among the birch trees. She knew the area around the sacred grove better than the snail knew its shell, and she knew exactly where the trees stood closest.

The sounds behind her disappeared, but she had to go deeper if she were to be safe.

Ragnfrid found the slope and the coniferous trees without a problem. She ran downhill, stumbled and rolled and got back on her feet. Then she crawled under the dense white spruce.

‘Thank you, Thor,’ she whispered. The fortunes of war stood with her.

She sat there for a long time, the rain stopped, and many despairing thoughts whirled through her. How long did such a battle last, when could she risk coming out, what if Himlinge had been conquered? Would it be better to search even deeper into the forest, perhaps south to Alflev?

But when she thought of Tormod and his well-equipped warriors, the palisade and the systematic training of the army, she couldn’t imagine a bunch of barbarians capable of conquering the royal town.

‘I pray for you, Tormod,’ she muttered. ‘You took advantage of me back then. I am grown now, and I can take advantage of you. We are equal. So I pray for you.’

She closed her eyes and tightened the grip on the seidhr staff. She thought of Thor, sent promises and sacrifices to the god of war in her mind, the wild, the strong, born of courage, fed by lightning. Come, come, across the skies in your goat chariot, she prayed, lend your belt to King Tormod, lend him your iron gloves, lend him your hammer.

All of a sudden, she heard rustling nearby. Then indistinct voices.

She raised her dagger and sat completely still. The voices were coming closer, and she heard the calm stride of horses’ hooves.

‘I think it was wise not to follow the main road,’ said a light voice. ‘We cannot risk others lurking now we are only three.’

It was a woman or a young girl talking, and Ragnfrid breathed a sigh of relief. She had better warn them. Maybe they could help each other.

Ragnfrid slipped out of the white spruce, onto the path, and got a shock when she suddenly faced three well-armed warriors on horseback – she hadn’t expected that. All three immediately drew their swords.

Then one laughed a light laugh, stuck the sword in the scabbard again, and Ragnfrid realised it was a manly-looking young woman simply dressed as a warrior.

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