"Bauldr, this isn't the place," Eric said quietly into the night air. His hot breath turned to steam as he spoke and not for the first time was he grateful for the warm wool garments he wore. These days he was loathe to wear the clothes of his first life, but here he knew it was needed.
"It is!" Said the man behind him. Well into his middle years, Bauldr was well onto his way to earning his name, though his red-gold beard was full as every like every hair that had fled his head had taken up residence on his chin.
"This is it, Hersir," he proclaimed again, this time with more heat. "This is where Gefjon lays in his eternal rest." Bauldr shifted uneasily on his feet. He did not like to be here, in the middle of the night, with a torch held aloft to illuminate the cairn which lay before the two men.
The burial ground could be easily missed. Many of the squarish stones that had once marked the ovase site. Though many years had past naught but grass covered the flat earth covering the stone ship beneath and even that looked sick, even in winter. Nothing wanted to grow near the lone, remote grave.
It made Eric nervous, too.
"My brother is not buried here," he told Bauldr again, though he wasn't so sure. True enough the tall marker stones bore the runes of the Giver. But here" Why would his brother be buried here, so far from home" Eric brushed his fingers lightly over the delicate carving in the stone.
"But my lord..." Bauldr's protests were weak. They cut off in a strangled noise when Eric dared step across the stone markers and walked atop the grave. "Don't—!" The thrall backed hurriedly away as if at any moment the dead would spew from the earth.
"Calm yourself, man." Eric snorted quietly as he strode across the oval, counting his steps as he went. "There is no magic here, I would feel it." Too small. No son of a Jarl would be buried here, especially not one as loved as Gefjon. The people had loved his little brother. His pyre would have lit up the sky, the flames as tall as a mountain. He would have been laid to rest in a place of honor near a great hall. He and Bauldr had rode for the better part of a day, far from where the nearest town would have been.
Bauldr stopped his retreat, but nothing could shake the dread that was creeping up his spine like cold tendrils. It wasn't until Eric left the stone ring that he let out a breath of relief.
"We should be away, my lord," he said shakily. "I don't want to make camp near these stones." Eric laughed at his unease.
"We'll head back to that clearing to the south, old friend. But I'm spending the—" He cut off at a noise behind him, like a cracking of a stone. He turned in time to see a hand thrust through the earth. It was all he had time to see before the light of Bauldr's torch fell to he ground and died out as the man himself fled into the woods screaming.
Eric cursed softly and drew the heavy blade sheathed at his side. The light of the half-full moon illuminated the clearing well enough, but after the brightness of the torch his eyes needed time to adjust. He squinted and like a fool rushed back towards the grave.
And was just in time to meet the draugr as it freed itself from its tomb.
Unlike other undead, this revenant had not withered away in the earth. It was gaunt, like a man who had not seen enough food in many months, but moved like a warrior fresh to battle. He had been laid to rest in hide armor with chain mail reinforcements and a sword in hand. Eric was armed, but other than a light mail shirt was not armored well enough for a fight against what was sure to be a capable fighter.
"Jarrrrlsssoonnn..." The creature hissed as it hefted its heavy blade for it's first swipe. Eric easily parried, but was pushed back in surprise.
"How do you know me?" He cried as he offered his own strike, hoping his speed would serve him. Blow after blow were turned away, but Eric held his ground.
"We know..." Came the hiss again. Eric grit his teeth and pressed the beast harder. Despite the chill in the air he was quickly breaking a sweat. He might remember the art of swords learned in his first life, but this was many lives since; the effort was more taxing than his memories let on.
"Know what"!" Eric got lucky with a swipe of his steel and the draugr was set off balance. Unfortunately it recovered before he could land a killing blow.
It would be his last lucky strike and soon he was losing ground. The deadman pressed him backwards and the sword felt so heavy in his hands. Each parry grew slower and no longer was he on the attack. "Tell me," he roared at the creature in desperation, "Tell me what you know!"
Before the darugr could respond, if it even would, an arrow blossomed in its chest. And then another. And another. Eric took his opening while the beast was confused to step in and cleave it's legs at the knees, the heavy blow knocking it from it's feet. Next he hacked it's sword arm from it's shoulder and Bauldr appeared at the beast's other side to do the same to the other.
"Stop!" Eric cried before his thrall could deal a death blow, severing the creature's head from it's neck.
"Why?" The servant asked, breathlessly. The terror was clear in his eyes. Eric was surprised the man had managed to return, but the thought was fleeting as he dropped to his knees.
The draugr struggled against his grip and he thrashed it into the ground a few times until it weakened.
"Tell me! What are you hiding" What is it you know?"
The deadman made a rattling noise and after a moment Eric realized it must be laughing.
"Twelve sons rose, twelve sons fell." More laughter. "Twelve stones to bind them all." The dry crackle went on and no matter how Eric shook or swore or yelled did the creature say more. Bauldr took it upon himself to end the ordeal with a heavy strike of his sword. And then another to make sure the draugr was dead.
Eric sat back on his heels staring down at the deadman as his flesh disintegrated until there was nothing left but old bones. Bones that looked like they had been interred in earth after someone tried to burn them and failed.
"What did he mean..." He said quietly. "What did he mean by twelve sons?" The look he gave his servant was bewildered. The balding man only answered with a shrug.
"We were only eleven."
The pair did not sleep that night. They did not stop riding until they had left the forest and Eric did not stop until he stepped through the rift that would pull him back to the world he knew. A world that had all but forgotten the age of his fathers as they built their skyscrapers and wove their World Wide Web.
He had a lot of research to do and he knew where he might start.
"It is!" Said the man behind him. Well into his middle years, Bauldr was well onto his way to earning his name, though his red-gold beard was full as every like every hair that had fled his head had taken up residence on his chin.
"This is it, Hersir," he proclaimed again, this time with more heat. "This is where Gefjon lays in his eternal rest." Bauldr shifted uneasily on his feet. He did not like to be here, in the middle of the night, with a torch held aloft to illuminate the cairn which lay before the two men.
The burial ground could be easily missed. Many of the squarish stones that had once marked the ovase site. Though many years had past naught but grass covered the flat earth covering the stone ship beneath and even that looked sick, even in winter. Nothing wanted to grow near the lone, remote grave.
It made Eric nervous, too.
"My brother is not buried here," he told Bauldr again, though he wasn't so sure. True enough the tall marker stones bore the runes of the Giver. But here" Why would his brother be buried here, so far from home" Eric brushed his fingers lightly over the delicate carving in the stone.
"But my lord..." Bauldr's protests were weak. They cut off in a strangled noise when Eric dared step across the stone markers and walked atop the grave. "Don't—!" The thrall backed hurriedly away as if at any moment the dead would spew from the earth.
"Calm yourself, man." Eric snorted quietly as he strode across the oval, counting his steps as he went. "There is no magic here, I would feel it." Too small. No son of a Jarl would be buried here, especially not one as loved as Gefjon. The people had loved his little brother. His pyre would have lit up the sky, the flames as tall as a mountain. He would have been laid to rest in a place of honor near a great hall. He and Bauldr had rode for the better part of a day, far from where the nearest town would have been.
Bauldr stopped his retreat, but nothing could shake the dread that was creeping up his spine like cold tendrils. It wasn't until Eric left the stone ring that he let out a breath of relief.
"We should be away, my lord," he said shakily. "I don't want to make camp near these stones." Eric laughed at his unease.
"We'll head back to that clearing to the south, old friend. But I'm spending the—" He cut off at a noise behind him, like a cracking of a stone. He turned in time to see a hand thrust through the earth. It was all he had time to see before the light of Bauldr's torch fell to he ground and died out as the man himself fled into the woods screaming.
Eric cursed softly and drew the heavy blade sheathed at his side. The light of the half-full moon illuminated the clearing well enough, but after the brightness of the torch his eyes needed time to adjust. He squinted and like a fool rushed back towards the grave.
And was just in time to meet the draugr as it freed itself from its tomb.
Unlike other undead, this revenant had not withered away in the earth. It was gaunt, like a man who had not seen enough food in many months, but moved like a warrior fresh to battle. He had been laid to rest in hide armor with chain mail reinforcements and a sword in hand. Eric was armed, but other than a light mail shirt was not armored well enough for a fight against what was sure to be a capable fighter.
"Jarrrrlsssoonnn..." The creature hissed as it hefted its heavy blade for it's first swipe. Eric easily parried, but was pushed back in surprise.
"How do you know me?" He cried as he offered his own strike, hoping his speed would serve him. Blow after blow were turned away, but Eric held his ground.
"We know..." Came the hiss again. Eric grit his teeth and pressed the beast harder. Despite the chill in the air he was quickly breaking a sweat. He might remember the art of swords learned in his first life, but this was many lives since; the effort was more taxing than his memories let on.
"Know what"!" Eric got lucky with a swipe of his steel and the draugr was set off balance. Unfortunately it recovered before he could land a killing blow.
It would be his last lucky strike and soon he was losing ground. The deadman pressed him backwards and the sword felt so heavy in his hands. Each parry grew slower and no longer was he on the attack. "Tell me," he roared at the creature in desperation, "Tell me what you know!"
Before the darugr could respond, if it even would, an arrow blossomed in its chest. And then another. And another. Eric took his opening while the beast was confused to step in and cleave it's legs at the knees, the heavy blow knocking it from it's feet. Next he hacked it's sword arm from it's shoulder and Bauldr appeared at the beast's other side to do the same to the other.
"Stop!" Eric cried before his thrall could deal a death blow, severing the creature's head from it's neck.
"Why?" The servant asked, breathlessly. The terror was clear in his eyes. Eric was surprised the man had managed to return, but the thought was fleeting as he dropped to his knees.
The draugr struggled against his grip and he thrashed it into the ground a few times until it weakened.
"Tell me! What are you hiding" What is it you know?"
The deadman made a rattling noise and after a moment Eric realized it must be laughing.
"Twelve sons rose, twelve sons fell." More laughter. "Twelve stones to bind them all." The dry crackle went on and no matter how Eric shook or swore or yelled did the creature say more. Bauldr took it upon himself to end the ordeal with a heavy strike of his sword. And then another to make sure the draugr was dead.
Eric sat back on his heels staring down at the deadman as his flesh disintegrated until there was nothing left but old bones. Bones that looked like they had been interred in earth after someone tried to burn them and failed.
"What did he mean..." He said quietly. "What did he mean by twelve sons?" The look he gave his servant was bewildered. The balding man only answered with a shrug.
"We were only eleven."
The pair did not sleep that night. They did not stop riding until they had left the forest and Eric did not stop until he stepped through the rift that would pull him back to the world he knew. A world that had all but forgotten the age of his fathers as they built their skyscrapers and wove their World Wide Web.
He had a lot of research to do and he knew where he might start.