6) The Way of the Vikings

In order for Thorgrim to join the Jomsvikings, he must defeat a Jomsviking.

"Get up!" a voice commanded.

I wanted to do anything else in the world at that moment. My head hurt, my breath stunk, and I needed a flagon of water and maybe some eggs. The captain had thrown a party worthy of Odin himself last night and we'd all drank our fill and more.

A kick to the arse followed the command.

"Tyr's hairy balls, what is the problem?"

"Get up and get your sword." It was the captain. "It's time."

"Time for what?"

"Your final test. You are not one of us unless you complete it. All of Jomsborg is waiting for you to prove yourself."

"Prove myself? How many battles have we fought? How many raids?"

"And none of them matter if you lose today."

Slowly, I got dressed and reached for my weapons.

"Leave the axe behind. You won't need it. This will be sword against sword."

I strapped on the sword and growled, "then let the blood wyrm feed."

With that chore complete, I stumbled to the door of the longhouse. My feet felt awkward from the night's excesses. I'm fairly certain Loki stole a set of bagpipes from some Pictish bastard and played them inside my skull. When the door opened the sun blinded me. I was already squinting before the door opened and now my eyes were mere slits. I could see a roped off area and a crowd of men.

At the other side, a man emerged. A man larger than any other human I'd ever known. So massive, he was rumored to be half frost-giant. It was Stein. I'd sat directly behind him on the ship. The man could row for days without tire. You could pant a map of Miðgarðr on his back. He was the closest friend I'd made amongst all the Jomsviking. He was also the most ferocious warrior in the band. The crowd howled in excitement and the one-eyed raven looked on in rapt attention from the nearest bough.

Stein drew a massive sword, bellowed and charged. He opened with a massive two-handed swing intended to cleave me from head to head. I just barely got my own sword up in time to block it. The swords rang and even though his blade never touched me, the sheer force of the strike sent shockwaves of pain all the way from my arm to the small of my back. The battle had hardly started and I already had my back to the longhouse.

A flurry of blows hammered at me. I was able to parry them, but my sword would need a turn on the grinding wheel when this was done. I attempt to roll out away from the longhouse. It was an awkward attempt, but I was on my feet and now had room to move. Finally, I swung back. Sparks flew as the blades clashed. He returned the slash with several of his own as we kicked up a cloud of dust with our exertions.

He swung again. By Odin's arse, he's strong, I thought. A bear wouldn't bring more raw power to the fight. But I was no weakling either. He left his guard high and I made a swipe at his knees which would leave an ordinary man crippled. Yet, as if he had a seventh sense, Stein jumped over my blade.

The fight continued. We hacked and thrust and parried and both of us leaked the red battle-sweat onto the ground. Yet none of the wounds were more than incidental scratches. My hair was matted to my back in sweat. In moments where we regroup, I can smell the ale coming out my pores. Then, with ferocious force, we reengaged. My eye swelled and his mouth seeped a reddish ooze from moments where we couldn't land a sword blow but could land a fist.

No fight in a war would have felt more horrifying. My balls were useless for weeks from a knee strike. But I kicked the side of that knee and Stein limped. Or was it a feint? Our muscles ached; our bones hurt. This was the way of the Viking. If I could defeat Stein, I could defeat any enemy. He would never yield. But nor would I. In truth, neither of us has garnered sufficient advantage to make the other yield. Instead, we clashed again. Over and over. The other men stood in silent witness, learning that they could rely upon me in battle.

The battle was less acrobatic as we continued to fight. I needed to be faster! I needed to be stronger! This was a battle of life and death. I grunted, trying to surge energy into my aching muscles. With renewed vigor I launched another flurry of hacks. This time Stein was the one backing up. His sword had dents in it now, too.

Fiercer! I command myself. Stronger! I will fight until my dying breath.

Outside the ring, the audience grew silent. They stood stunned at the carnage we inflicted upon each other. Viscous fluid emerged from my nose now as well. We trained as we battle, and none in the audience was sure which one this was anymore. None would ever witness this and think that these two men were friends, not enemies.

The sun beat down upon us. The weariness was obvious. Yet neither of us could capitalize. Even so much as taking a footstep involved pain. Yet steel meets steel again. And again. Every muscle strained in this battle of iron wills.

My shoulders felt like lead. Even my lungs screamed as the muscles that expand and contract my ribs demand rest. The ribs were battered as well. Yet for all of it, I can see Stein suffered terribly as well. Each of us could only summon energy in bursts. Yet his bursts still wielded a staggering force. He's knocked me to the ground multiple times, but I've been able to summon my own burst and roll away and regain my feet. This was how we battle. I'd dished out some wicked slashes which would have immobilized an ox, to say nothing of an ordinary man. Could Stein be beaten? By the Gods he was strong.

We clash again. Finally, he dropped to a knee, exhausted. I moved in for the kill like an enemy. His face showed the truth. He was done. I wound up for a powerful overhand strike and put everything I had left in the blow. It was slow, but enough to cleave a man in two. At the last moment, I rotated my blade and land the flat instead of the edge. Stein dropped. Not dead, merely defeated. I drop as well. Not defeated, merely exhausted.

The crowd erupts. Our comrades will speak of this for eternity. Stein and I will laugh in Valhalla and remembering this day for eternity. Random hands offered congratulations, water, and bandages. Several minutes pass before I summoned the strength to sit up.

The captain smiles and grasps my hand in welcome. "These men were your friends. Now they are your brothers." They cheered anew.

Later that morning I seek out the captain again. I have plans, but as a member of the Jomsviking I am no longer allowed to leave Jomsburg on my own for more than a few days without permission.

I ask him for that permission and for a handful of men. My future lay with the Jomsvikings but I still have my past to address, and it is time.

"Alas, no," he tells me, "Not yet. You will have the men and a boat, but not now. You see, there is no time to recover, for we leave tomorrow on another raid."

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1283 Words