Broken Souls (Book 1 of Seasons of the Cycle)

Chapter 36 - Bothvar Beorcolsson

A man with bright, shining white hair and a golden patch upon his eye stands holding a spear of pure light as ravens sit upon his shoulders, staring out as we stand upon the mountain top. He watches those toiling and working, fighting in wars, farming, and much more. They are but ants beneath us. I still don't understand why we protect them. "Why do we let them do as they please when they should all be serving us? Bowing at our feet. We protect them yet most turn their eyes away from us in search of others."

He turns his single gaze upon me, yet it has the full weight of the mountain itself upon it. "And why do you think you deserve their servitude? Are you worthy of it?"

"I am. I am their superior in every way. No one can match my might. With my hammer, I am the strongest there is. Even the giants tremble beneath me. The serpent that sleeps beneath the waters knows not to challenge me. Why should I not rule over them?" I puff out my chest with pride.

"Might does not always make right. Just because you are one of the strongest, doesn't mean you are worthy of it or of their servitude. Nor should they serve. Why should they not have the freedom to live their own lives and make their own choices? Shouldn't all living beings have that right?"

"Look at what it has brought them? They fight and make war over and over again. They kill each other over land and spoil rather than help each other. No one's willing to aid their neighbor. They'd rather steal the boots off a starving man's feet than feed him."

"Not all of them. You just see one and generalize the rest. If you look closer, there are plenty who will give the tunic off their back to another who is without. Some even give the last of the food they have to feed those who are without. Is that not noble and honorable?" my father says.

"I suppose. But would they not prosper even more if they were under our rule instead of meandering as they please?" I ask.

"Perhaps... But what makes you think you know what is best for them? What would you do if you ruled over them? Would you subjugate them? Force them to do unyielding labor? Build your monuments? Wage war with the other gods?" His eyebrow raises.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. But the other gods would wage war. Surely, I would meet them with my own army of followers. We should prepare for Ragnarok. These mortals need to be ready," I say.

"Ragnarok will come regardless of whether we are ready for it. Fate waits on no one, and destiny can't be changed by even the strongest of us. I hope one day, my son, you will realize that we are not that different from them. Our biggest difference is relative."

I wake up in a sweat. What was I dreaming about? I swear it was Thunar and Olaf. The gods. Why would I see such a dream? Is it a sign? I shake my head. I should not dwell on such things. I'm but a mere mortal of no importance. I try to forget the dream and get on with the day.

Prey is getting scarce as winter is in full swing. I've gotten much stronger and yet I still cannot lift the hammer. But I keep snapping bow strings. The glow ore has proven to be tricky to smelt and mold. It takes a hot fire to melt. Fortunately, the coal I have is different and burns hotter than other coal, but even that barely does the trick. Then it melts my quenching bucket anyway. I haven't even managed to get it into the molds yet, but I suppose that will be a challenge if my buckets keep melting. Luckily, I've made a new one out of the glowing ore. A shotty one at that, but it works far better than the one I traded Aldam for. I find that if I temper it and beat on it, it becomes more resistant to heat. Another thing that strikes me as odd is that the glow fades when heated. It is now just a highly dark emerald color. Much like the altar the hammer sits upon.

Once I made the bucket, I tried my luck with a hammer. The first attempt destroyed my molding but gave me a shoddy hammer. It's a crooked handle with a very rugged head, but it suffices. I created new molds with the metal. It was tricky trying to figure out how to mold the liquid metal into an object I desire. I ended up molding it around the hammer, and I was able to pull the hammer and bend the metal to make a smoother mold, but that only made the head. The handle was more difficult. It took me several attempts to create a straight enough handle mold. Fortunately, these caves are rich with this ore. I had to do this for each mold until I could make decent weapons and tools with the metal. Of course, it took me a good part of winter and a lot of ore to make suitable weapons and tools that were not shoddy.