Lightning Scarred Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Carolyn Ivy Stein

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  About the Stories

  Lightning Scarred

  Edda - Sif’s Yellow Cloak

  Lightning and Shadow

  Edda - Birth of the Ice Witches

  Frozen Art

  Edda - Pytheus’ Voyage to Thule

  The Ginger Gambit

  Edda - Burning Ice

  Deep Compassion

  Edda - A Giant's Champion

  Escape into Winter

  Edda: Piške the Curonian and the Blood-Soaked Bears

  An Academic Note on Magic in Thule

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  More to Explore

  To Steve, without his work and kindness this book wouldn’t have happened. I adore you, my Beloved.

  * * *

  And to my first teachers who taught me to read, encouraged me to create stories, and introduced me to other writers:

  Marvin and Sandra Greenberg.

  About the Stories

  In the 4th century BC, Pythias of Massalia became the first European to describe the far north. He coined the term "curdled water" to describe the ice-choked seas. He gave the name Thule to what he discovered there. Of course the Norse and Inuit knew of it long before Pythias.

  I never intended to write about Vikings, but one day we were asked for proposals for microsettings to be used as stretch goals for a new game supplement, The Micronomicon by John D. Payne. We wrote about an Arctic portal that leads ships to a mystical land of ancient magic. We lightly tied it to Norse myth. After that, I knew that I wanted to write at least one story set there.

  The first story set in Thule, "Lightning Scarred," was written as an inducement to get support for the game supplement and I thought we were done after that. But Thule wasn’t done with me. Soon, Magnihild pushed into my writing again demanding new adventures, so I wrote "Lightning and Shadow." With just a map, a sledge, and a week's worth of food, Magnihild and Caedmon brave snow and ice on a mission to Thule, a brutal land of ice and magic. Will they survive the monsters and mages of the frozen waste?

  After that, Thule beckoned me through her portal again and again, even when Vikings were the furthest thing from my mind. I added stories and eddas, folk tales in the Norse style that explore other aspects of Thulish gods and life.

  "Frozen Art," is a loosely imagined fantasy based on one of my ancestors who traveled in a theater troupe across Europe, escaping pogroms and sailed a whaling ship with her family to Canada. But how did she get to New York City? I’ve imagined it this way. With little money and no connections, Raisa needed a Shabbat miracle to get to New York City. When she overheard an artist refusing to accompany an exploration ship to the Arctic, she knew the Queen of Shabbat brought magic to the far north just for her.

  Once I realized that I didn't have to stick to Magnihild's viewpoint, I had more room to stretch. I wrote "Deep Compassion" about Yrsa who faces every mom's problem -- get a bunch of rambunctious kids fed and on their way to school in the morning. But for Yrsa, a sentient polar bear living in frozen Thule, morning means the first day of Arctic spring that ends her hibernation. Breakfast? Last summer’s frozen seal meat. School transportation? A long hungry trek to a snowy shore with an ever-present chance of failure. So much hunger! But she won't eat just anything or anyone. Will her ethics get in the way of her survival and that of her cubs?

  With "The Ginger Gambit" it is winter in the north and not a time for ships or Thule's magic. Magnihild's ginger cat has his own ideas on proper activities.

  The last story in the collection was my most ambitious. I realized that I needed help, that the subject matter, Viking naval tactics, was too far outside of my comfort zone. Fortunately for the story, Steve is a naval military historian and he jumped onboard to help draft it. “Escape Into Winter” was written by both of us.

  At the end of the book you'll find something written by someone other than me. A Viking professor arrived at my home waving a sheaf of papers, demanding that I publish his essay on his novel theory of magic and Thule. Strap in, it's a wild ride.

  Thanks for picking up this book. I hope you enjoy reading the stories and eddas as much as I enjoyed writing them.

  Be well, friends!

  Carolyn Ivy Stein

  Lightning Scarred

  Carolyn Ivy Stein

  Magnihild's long, thick brown braid hung down her back, swinging gently over her red wool cloak trimmed in white fox fur as the ship moved along the Barents Sea, taking her north to her betrothed. The rough sea jostled the ship, causing the large red and white striped square sail to thwap in time with the wind. Magnihild moved toward the bow to get a better look at their heading. That was a mistake. The wind blasted salty water droplets into Magnihild’s mouth and eyes forcing her to blink rapidly to keep the burning salt from her delicate membranes.

  A large wave crested under the ship. Magnihild clutched the smooth wooden rail to keep from being swept from her feet. One of her father's men laughed at her, but she ignored him.

  It was Magnihild’s last day of freedom. Tomorrow, as a freshly married wife, she would have to stay home to guard hearth and home instead of riding along with her father on sorties against the barbarians. That damned old sword!

  This was not the worst of it. The worst was her father had decreed that she had to marry Caedmon. She acknowledged to herself that Caedmon was a strong, attractive man if one overlooked the plain evidence of his unfitness for any Jarl's daughter. He was a warrior so unlucky and so hated by the gods that he'd been struck by lightning. And lived. Thor marked him with lacy red scars covering his face, chest, and hands, inscribing him with lightning, making him unfit to enter any sacred place.

  Some said it was a sign of the gods' favor that he'd lived at all. Magnihild didn't see a reason to choose between theories. It was obvious that he'd angered some gods and pleased others and they'd gone to war using his body as a proxy. Once his body and soul were joined to her own, she would take an equal part of all his enemies and allies. She didn't want a god as her enemy. She wasn't even sure she wanted a god as an ally.

  "Magnihild, come help set up the tent," said Kolbyr, moving his aging, bulky form with the grace of the master swordsman and sailor he was. He'd been the first of Magnihild's father's vassals to swear his loyalty and was the only one of her father's men who dared tell her what to do.

  "Let me be, Kolbyr. I am on watch."

  He looked like he was about to scold her for her obvious lie, but then shrugged and ordered Royd, the youngest sailor on the cruise other than Magnihild herself, to help with the tent.

  It was a bad sign that he gave up that easily, she thought. Kolbyr must think that she was no longer a warrior or a sailor, but just a woman on her way to her marriage who must be protected. She ground her teeth in frustration but resumed searching the horizon and the sea.

  The days were getting shorter and Magnihild feared the darkness that would soon engulf them. Who knew what lay beneath the sea when the sky was lit only with moonlight, when they must depend on the gods' good favor to carry them safely across. Thankfully it would be at least an hour until the sun set tonight.

  Their destination lay deep into Thule, the land of frozen wastes, monsters, and evil magic. Night there lasted longer than anywhere else in the known world. Sometimes for weeks. Sunless days rested heavy on Magnihild's soul, making her sick and sullen. Her mother said she was a creature of light.


  She'd been trained to battle the lazy, settled barbarians along the Southern coasts where her father raided each spring, and she was good at it. She handled a sword as well as most of his men. She'd learned tactics and strategy from her father. She just wasn't sure how to prepare for battles with gods, especially when she didn't even know exactly which gods were upset with Caedmon.

  Just to be safe she'd asked her father for animals to sacrifice to each of the gods before they left and to fund the celebrations to accompany each sacrifice. Her father agreed that it was the prudent course of action but said that resources were limited. He asked Magnihild to pick just one of the gods. She picked Jörd, mother of Thor the Thunderer, and goddess of the Earth. If any of the holy ones could help her, it was Jörd.

  The ritual went well. Her father offered the very best goat to Jörd and her mother's servants prepared a feast no one would ever forget: rich pork stew, rye flatbread stuffed with honey and thyme and every kind of fish imaginable. For her part, she made a deep and sincere prayer to Jörd asking for Caedmon to be made worthy of her and her family.

  In the middle of the circle dance, just after everyone finished eating her mother's pork stew and before the sweets to come, an ancient tarnished bronze sword fell from the wall, striking a glancing blow to Kolbyr, her father's oldest and most loyal sworn man. It knocked him unconscious.

  Kolbyr recovered quickly but her father took it as a sign from Jörd. He ordered his round ship prepared and they left that evening bound for Thule to return the ancient sword to whatever god or demon wanted it.

  Her father claimed that it was better to navigate at night because a seaman could take a reckoning from the stars, placed by Odin to help travelers. But she found the night eerie, filled with the promise of monsters and all manner of evils. As well, the night grew cold, making it more likely that the ship would hit ice in the water.

  The wind picked up and soon her braid was bouncing around, smacking her face. The chill gale roughened her cheeks. She pulled her hood up over her head. The white fox trim warmed her skin and created a barrier to catch ice particles that swirled in the wind.

  Ice magic was strange and eerie. Magnihild had heard about witches in Thule who had mastered the elements, who made fire erupt from ice. She'd heard of talking polar bears. She'd heard of snow-covered bushes twisted in strange shapes that suddenly shook their snow off revealing themselves as deformed women and giants.

  The ship jolted over an ice chunk and Magnihild saw for a brief moment under the ice what looked like stone-hewn buildings arranged in a maze, a strange icy city that only gods or demons could inhabit. As she stared into the ice another wave crested over the ship soaking her and Royd as he tried to erect the sleeping tent out of the extra sail to protect their smelly sealskin sleeping bags and provide an extra layer of warmth while they slept in the bitter cold.

  When the water cleared and she could see again, the city within the ice had disappeared. Ahead of the ship she saw ice had formed into an arch in the middle of the sea looking like a doorway into magic. A mist roiled within and around it, completely obscuring whatever lay beyond.

  "Father, let us sail through the ice door," said Magnihild, struck by an idea. "Perhaps it will take us through to meet with the Aelfr. They could take this sword off your hands to return it to the gods. If we are polite to them."

  Her father looked skeptical, the hard edges of his face assessing the ice as if it were an enemy stronghold, but when he turned back to Magnihild his eyes softened. "Through the ice, men. Let's make this a trip to remember."

  As they angled the ship toward the enormous round hole in the ice, a gust caught the sail forcing the men to quickly adjust, using their strength against the wind. Magnihild wrapped sealskin sheets around the tarnished ancient sword in its red leather scabbard so that it would be safe as they moved through the mist.

  "Row," called her father, and four stout fighters manned the oars to force the ship to turn and enter the hole in the ice, which shimmered in sapphire blue and royal purple, like melt lakes in the spring thaw. The mist surrounded the ship and Magnihild felt dizzy and overawed. This was a deeply unusual mist. Most mists were all the same, gray-white with indistinct objects. If she’d felt something in any of them it had just been wetness.

  When the mist cleared the first thing she saw was a snow-covered land with more polar bears than she'd ever seen in one place. There must have been twenty or so wrestling, eating a seal, or rolling around on the snow. Hundreds of birds blackened the sky and called loudly, creating a cacophony in the air. It smelled of fresh fish and animals that gathered in the Arctic spring, as if the mist or the ice portal had led them from autumn to springtime.

  Springtime meant...

  Before she could complete her thought, three killer whales moved under the water, each one larger than their ship. The three moved their tails in unison, slapping the water with a crash to create an immense wave that crested above the ship. Icy water filled her mouth with salt, and she clung to the wooden rail with all her strength. How the ship stayed afloat under the force of it, Magnihild never knew. But the energy of the wave propelled the ship toward land where what looked like a small ship floated in the distance.

  As they approached, Magnihild saw a knorr, a small merchant ship that carried settlers to new lands, marooned and sinking. The land nearby was mostly brown with streaks of dirt and low green plants and smelled of new life. Another sign of spring.

  The knorr’s passengers and crew: men, women, and children, had abandoned their ship and erected tents on the land near their wrecked ship. Around them were at least half a dozen vicious Arctic wolves, their white fur streaked with blood. She heard a child’s high-pitched scream, though she couldn’t see the child.

  Her father ordered the men to row toward the beleaguered castaways. Those not rowing grabbed their weapons and prepared to fight.

  Magnihild was irritated with herself that she hadn’t brought her own sword. She pulled the ancient bronze sword from its seal skin wrapping and checked to make sure it drew easily from its scabbard, which she fastened to her belt. As the ship beached alongside the shore she and the men jumped out near the stern of the ship. The cold water came to her waist making her dress heavy and binding her legs as she ran to battle with her comrades against the wolves. As she charged, she drew the sword to keep it clear of the water.

  "The sword! Look at the sword!" called one of her father's men.

  Magnihild looked around dumbly searching for someone with a sword before she realized that he was pointing to her sword. The old, battered ancestral sword glowed with a pink light. In the brief time she took to quickly glance at it she saw that the tarnish was gone, and the sword shone in the light of the day. Or was the glow coming from within the sword itself? It felt heavier than before.

  Magnihild roared her battle cry and rushed forward. To her left and right her father's men did the same. The clamoring commotion of their voices rising in righteous battle as they sped toward the encampment drew the wolves' attention from the unarmed settlers.

  Thunder rumbled, as if the heavens also chose to join in this battle. The peculiar ozone smell of lightning filled the air as the sky flashed, reflecting in the ancient sword, which seemed to buzz against the palm of her hand with the power in the air.

  As they came closer to the sight of the wolfish massacre, they saw men lying bleeding on the ground. Magnihild tried to ignore the sickening smell of blood and offal as she charged.

  Their numbers and their loud voices stopped the wolves. They chased the majority of the large wolves away from the encampment and Magnihild thought they'd rescued the settlers when she heard a panicked shriek come from behind her.

  Three large wolves had surrounded a lone elderly man carrying a small child. The man had a large stick that he was using like a sword to keep the wolves at bay, but Magnihild could see that it would be a matter of moments before the wolves defeated him.

  The wolves circled closer.

/>   Magnihild yelled her battle cry again and charged, hoping that the others would join her. It looked hopeless. Her voice rose in a rough entreaty, "Jörd, I have sacrificed to you. Bless us now! Help us, Jörd!"

  Lightning drew a bright jagged line between her and the elderly man, illuminating the enormous wolf that had positioned himself behind the man. The wolf seized its moment and gracefully leaped at the man's back.

  Time slowed and the wolf seemed to hang suspended in air for a moment.

  Magnihild ran forward feeling blood beating in her ears. A veil of red fury came across her eyes and her mouth felt dry as she plunged her blade into the leaping wolf. The elderly man pulled the child closer to his chest and ran toward the safety of their ship.

  Magnihild was about to follow when a crashing boom engulfed her with a jolt of white, hot excruciating pain that seemed to originate from nowhere and everywhere. She felt herself surrounded by white. A purer white than snow and completely unlike like the soft gray mists.

  The bright enduring white light seemed to come from both inside her and outside, preventing her from seeing anything else. A ringing in her ears nearly obscured all sound, though she could vaguely sense that men were shouting around her. She smelled pine resin and honey.

  Her world went black.

  When she regained consciousness, she found she was lying supine on the snowy plain surrounded by three enormous polar bears. She ached deep in her bones. Smoke rose from her chest where wool, linen, and skin had burned in the flash of a moment. She wanted to cry. She wanted to run. She wanted to move. But she couldn't do anything except listen.