They were getting restless, the shadows, far too many whispering at once. Anger was the loudest, coming from everywhere. Fear was just behind it mixing with the rage and becoming deafening. Pain was the closest though. It steadily grew louder than all else. Agony buzzing in one’s ear without hope of escape until crashing down like a waterfall.

Brokkr’s voice choked as he screamed. His body felt broken. Every motion set ablaze new torture as his back arched and fists clenched. That had been a mistake as his hands were burned, an entire layer of skin missing.

His mind began fading again. No, draugr! Couldn’t face them. Too wounded. An acrid stench hit him. His own vomit as he wretched. Where the fuck was Laufey?

“One of them is awake! We have to kill him now!”

Now who the fuck said that! The words had Brokkr’s eyes open. He rose, shadows pooling on his back and around him when his legs failed.

A crowd met his eyes as his vision cleared, a large one but their number was hard to grasp in the morning sun. Most held weapons and they all pointed his way. Axes, swords, and more than a few pitchforks, and just beyond them was Sigyn padding the air with her hands.

“Stand down or I’ll make you,” Sigyn commanded but that only seemed to rile the crowd more.

“You’re one of them too!” shouted a man inching forwards with an ax. Brokkr thought his name might be Ulf. Didn’t matter much as he was Eitri’s Thane.

“One of what?” Brokkr called out, his voice rasping like a man gone days without water. Gods, he had gone days without water.

“A vaettir!” Ulf spat and turned to the people at his back. “All three of Ivaldi’s sons are possessed! We all saw it, shadows moving around them like Svartalfar!”

Brokkr’s own tribe roared at that while he groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

How had father kept this secret for so long? Brokkr hadn’t thought twice about using shadows. They felt a part of him more so than his limbs. Even now they spilled from him in great heaps. No, they were being pulled from him into the floor of the. . . ship?

Brokkr’s mouth hung agape as he took in his surroundings. They were in a massive cave filled with water and by the smell of it, connected to the sea. But in said cave was a ship longer and wider than any Brokkr imagined could be built.

The oars at its sides seemed only for decoration. Thrice as large and they’d still amount to naught. The skin of the vessel was carved with scales each etched with runes and at its head was that of a lindworm with a great maw wide enough to devour several men at once.

The familiar taste of orichalcum came through the shadows. Not much, maybe a thimble of the metal but worked into the ship making it hunger for power and magin, Brokkr’s magin. It drew more and more with each person that boarded, the bow and stern of the ship growing bit by bit as more power became available.

Ulf’s body crashing against the mass of the ship broke Brokkr's wonderment. Took him a moment to realize the snapping sound came from the man’s now broken back.

Sigyn heaved, the same shine in her eyes she always had when using magic. With a wave, another charging man rose into the air, his ax missing by a hair’s breadth as he swung at the Völva. The man tumbled end over end as he landed right at Brokkr’s feet.

Without hesitation, Brokkr stomped on the man’s throat, a satisfying crunch resounding just before arcs of pain lanced up his foot.

“Enough!” Brokkr shouted.

He ambled forward gritting through the pain. Blood coated every step. Cracked bones screamed out. Hands shuddered uselessly, not capable of even holding a weapon. But shadows were always loyal even in the sun.

Brokkr searched the crowd, finding the largest man he could. “You have a grievance.”

The man took a step back. Shadows now covered half of Brokkr’s face. Not the whole, impossible after losing so much magin in forging his hammer and with what this ship stole now.

“Speak!” he roared.

Now the whole tribe stepped back and rose shields.

“Y-you and your brothers are vaettir, Svartalfar,” the man stuttered like a fucking craven bastard.

“What of it?”

The man opened and closed his mouth without saying a word.

Brokkr spat a bloody wad at his feet and gestured at his ax. “If you have issue, let's settle it then.”

Sigyn’s hand pulled on Brokkr’s shoulder. “Don’t be a fool-“

Brokkr whirled on the Völva wanting to run her through had he a weapon. “Shut your god’s damned mouth! I’ll deal with you after this craven!”

The craven then moved, swinging his ax with Brokkr’s back turned. Fool only proved his weakness.

Brokkr felt the darkness move along the weapon’s path, easily shifting to one side to avoid it. He lashed out grunting with the pain the move conjured and gripped the man’s mouth. Before he could do ought, shadows poured into that mouth, down his throat and filling his lungs, solidifying.

The man fell over, clawing at his chest and throat. Brokkr looked on as if bored at his tribe as the man died. “Anyone else?”

Brokkr turned away when no one spoke back to Sigyn. “Where is my hammer?”

The Völva shook her head unknowingly and answered but Brokkr heard none of it. The shadows bellowed in a cacophony and instantly he felt a fool.

There was no need to find his hammer. Magic was carved into the weapon ensuring it would always return when called.

Brokkr outstretched his right hand and concentrated. He’d placed the runes himself letting the shadows puzzle out what knowledge he gained from Sigyn. This would work. It had to.

The cave shuddered as what sounded like a boulder crashed in the distance. A breath later a wall erupted in a shower of stone as the rune hammer flew into Brokkr’s hand. His hunger, thirst, and hundreds of other pains vanished. His mind cleared like a fog had been over it, enough so that his brothers came to mind.

“Where are my brothers?” Brokkr asked. The look of pity on Sigyn’s face told him her answer before she spoke.

“Sindri fell as the draugr first came,” she said. “Eitri, we have his body and his dragon band but no others.”

Brokkr stared at Sigyn for a long while. He’d hated his brothers in their last days, but they were his brothers. Something foul filled him, stabbed at him where the rune hammer couldn’t relieve. His vision was blurring again and Brokkr wiped at his eyes wanting more than ever to paint the ground red with his rune hammer. But first, he had a question.

“Why didn’t you see this coming?”

Sigyn must have seen something in his eye for she stepped back and raised a hand. Brokkr felt a pressure come over him but pressed forward with body, soul and shadow breaking whatever spell the Völva cast. She looked to the edge of the ship as if about to plunge into the freezing water below when a hatch opened on deck.

“Her sight is blinded,” Laufey said from that hatch.

The Serklander was covered from head to toe in bandaging. Suddenly Brokkr was grateful for his nature as unlike sorcery it came with little in the way of consequences.

“What does that mean?” Brokkr asked.

Laufey only gestured for Brokkr to follow as he went down a set of stairs.

Following behind, the tar filling Brokkr’s chest lessened as he took in the impossible size of the ship anew. Laufey traveled three decks down, each filled with people and enough space for several dozen more. They had to be near scraping the seafloor by the time they came to a stop in what seemed like a private chamber.

“Impressive, is it not?” Laufey said, gesturing to the ship.

“Oh no,” Brokkr said. “You will tell me about this ship.” He pointed an accusing finger at Sigyn. “But her first. Half the tribe had to have been lost last night!”

“It's not her fault,” Laufey assured.

Brokkr gripped his hammer tighter. “Then who’s because someone is tasting my hammer for this!”

“Someone or something is changing the future,” Sigyn explained.

Brokkr spat not wanting to hear shit of the sight. He’d learned enough through the Völva to know it was too abstract for his liking. Still, he understood what she spoke of in a sense.

“The future can change all it wants. That doesn’t mean you won’t see the change as they come.”

Laufey sighed but Sigyn spoke next. “You don’t understand. Oracles can’t see the happening of other oracles. I thought one was close by, the Vargr Tribe’s Völva perhaps, but she couldn’t blind me from seeing years into the future.”

“What could?” Brokkr asked.

“Your father could,” Laufey said.

For a moment Brokkr thought the man spoke of Ivaldi but his gaze remained on Sigyn. “And who the fuck is your father!”

Brokkr certainly didn’t know about the woman’s parentage. As far as he and every other Dudini man knew, Sigyn had simply walked into the tribe as a child. Father had accepted her so all followed suit.

Sigyn looked at Laufey with trepidation. An entire conversation passed between the two with that one look, the shadows easily hearing from every muscle twitch and unconscious motion.

We should tell him now.

Are you sure? This can't possibly be my father.

Regardless, he needs to know, or he’ll never trust us.

Fine, but you tell him.

Laufey sighed looking bashful to hide the guilt behind his eyes. “Her father.” He paused.

“Just say it,” Brokkr demanded.

With a final breath, Laufey blurted out. “Her father is Odin.”