The Seeress

Chapter Twenty Nine

Erik was relieved to see the last of the longboats leave the shores. Mainly due that he knew well that the Jarl was in there, along with Agnetha. He slumped carefully to sit among the many villagers who lost their homes. Their grief wouldn't be long, as they would reach land again within a week's time. The Sun was barely up, and already most of them were tired. The feeling of death pervaded the ship. 

He saw Edwin crowded amongst the villagers, already looking despondent and uncomfortable. Erik did not know how to approach him. "Are you alright?" Erik nudged Edwin, as the latter barely nodded back at him. His fingers trembled slightly as he focused on them to not distract his mind. 

"I do not know what to say..." Edwin said as he hugged himself. The longship itself could only carry 40 men, and yet 70 souls rest upon it. Even with the dozen men that are rowing the ship, it would seem that it would barely move. Erik himself rowed on longships once, and he remembered their graceful dances at the sea as Erik stood near the dragon's head of the ship. Although not having the chance to row at the battle. 

"You know... I always wanted to be a Viking when I was a boy..." Erik said as he admired the mast. "I've heard stories about how men rode past storms to bring back loot and gold from the very Western towns that they have plundered. I had to beg as a boy just to hear those stories..."

Edwin was clearly distraught, and Erik took a moment to understand why. "Of course... they were Nords from the Great War... Does it hurt that they have killed Western men before? Not like your people have not inflicted death to mine either." Erik replied quickly. "But I admired those men... even if my weak body did not allow me to do so..."

"Weak... you?" Edwin asked, clearly seeing that Erik had muscles much stronger than he could ever be. 

"In the olden days... I wasn't born a strong man..." Erik admitted. "I was told that a serf would have suited me more, as perhaps the gods did not favour me as a Viking. Well, I could not accept that, of course. And now, I stand as one of Jarl Kjatarn's most trusted men. If you want to be accepted at the gates of Valhalla... at the least, you must look strong and ready as if you have died in Odin's name..."

"I admire your spirit," Edwin said. "I wish I could be like you though... always wanted to be a scribe. Far away in a proper place. Writing poems. At least I am more suited for that life than here," 

"Well, a scribe would fit you better," Erik admitted as he looked that Edwin did have a meek body, even in the darkness at night. "You may have not been exceptional in combat... But I could say that you are... good at heart at least... The same can't be said for many men, either Nord or Westerner. As a matter of fact, I have never met a Westerner nice to me, even including your family." 

"I suppose that counts as a compliment..." Edwin said, his weak smile fading away as the tides became more inconvenient. He sat among the Nords in an uncomfortable position, his head swaying back and forth wildly. He then looked at his father, as John preferred to row amongst the men. For John wanted to take his mind off and to give himself the illusion that he was much stronger than he was. Edwin did not want to disturb his father and thus made himself engaged in his conversation. 

"If you like ships so much, what kind of ship is this?" Edwin asked. 

"A Skeid, large warships used for hundreds of years..." Erik said. "Very sturdy ship, designed to host hundreds of Vikings to wage war... I've always wanted to see a magnificent beast like this riding forth to battle. How its hull will break the bodies of those Western ships. I've heard many stories about such deeds."

Edwin did not want to say anything. To hear the Nord fantasizing about the deaths of his kinsmen provided much fear to him. Regardless, Edwin stayed silent, as his energy was much spent already on fleeing. Even if the Sun had not set yet. He did not want to sour Erik's mood either way.

...

The ship sailed on for much of the day. Fear pervaded throughout the longships, even more so with both the Jarl and the seeress laying wounded. Harold stood quite far from them, as the tides did not help much in soothing their pain. Everyone was filled with doubt. Harold hugged himself as the waves shook the ship, the tides becoming more violent. 

"Hold her still..." a Viking yelled as Agnetha winced from the wound. The soft whimpers were enough to cause pain in Harold's guts. The moon was rising, which meant that it was darker for those attending her to see. Medicine was barely brought on board due to the chaos unfolding. Which meant that only Agnetha could prevent her soul from being sent to Hel herself. Agnetha murmured words and clung to her cloak. 

"It is over! The gods have abandoned us!" a voice cried out in the darkness. 

"Silence!" Knut yelled as Harold could hear the desperation in his voice. Agnetha could hear the overlapping of voices collapsing on each other. Kjatarn had his own group tending to his wounds, but unlike Agnetha, he did not say a word... His face was still and his body was as calm as a breeze. A far cry from his usual self. 

"Someone hold her down! Put pressure on the wound!"

Harold saw the seeress' eyes and pondered whether it was right to let her suffer. He concluded that he was going to help add pressure to the wound. Whether his effort brought any changes, Harold thought it was only right to help her. Even as the waves kept shaking his body back and forth alongside the various other bodies focused on her.

Agnetha felt weak, as she could only rely on her brother's grip for warmth. She turned to the left, to see her father wounded just like her. But she could tell that he was more severe. Despite this, Agnetha felt more hands were focused on treating her wounds. The hands engulf her, as, within the storm, a feminine voice became clear to her.

"It is time... Agnetha..."

Agnetha felt her heart tremble. She recognized that voice. The voice from the goddess who in the end, takes the soul away to its final place. "It is time..."

"No... not yet..." said another, but more assured and commanding. Agnetha recognized that voice too. Calm, but terrifying. Odin's voice. 

"Hel... I bring an option for you... life... for a life..." the voice said again. "This one shalt not go just yet,"

Agnetha felt light shining upon her, even if there was no source of light to do so. The light burned grimly as her soul warmed from Hel's touch. Agnetha did not know whether she was awake, but she could feel the hands stretching to bring her to the darkness. Even on the cold seas, she sweated profusely, her mind was locked by herself to prevent to be slipped away. 

"Odin... told me you are too important... your soul, that cannot be taken."

Agnetha felt the coarse breath touching her face, the yelling of her people dissipating. Enshrouded in the darkness. "Do not worry... you will not fall just yet..." a voice said softly, as Agnetha felt her body let go of her fingers. Agnetha fell as the cold waters awakened her. 

Agnetha woke up, as suddenly the sky turned bright with the Sun blaring at her. She found herself outside the ship, as several men tried to calm her down. She then felt Knut embracing her, as her mind slowly calmed itself from what she had seen. "Knut... I have seen..." Agnetha panted under her breath, clutching onto him still. But Agnetha could feel the tremble of Knut's voice, coupled with his soft glance that Agnetha had never seen since he was a boy. 

"He is dead..." Knut said as Agnetha did not understand seeing her brother's saddened face. Then she saw her father covered in cloth, Erik softly covering his face, and her tears thus trickled down her cheeks.