Fimbulwinter

“Brother it is time to go.” Jor said with his eyes out the window. Thunder rolls in the distance, getting louder with each crack. A young man sits opposite Jor, his attention affixed to the bloody sword in his hand, and the dead body at his feet. His ears are ringing, breath heavy and visible. The man says, “He was just trying to survive…and…I killed him.” Jor’s voice falters in response, “Fen….”

He walks over to his brother taking their mother’s silver, heart shaped locket out of his pocket. “Fen, I’m sorry...but remember what father taught us. Remember what we must do. I know it’s hard for you, but you need to believe in our fates.” Tears start to run down Fen’s face, freezing about half way down his cheeks. Jor puts the locket into Fen’s hand, swapping it out for the marbled steel blade, placing it back into its sheath at Fen's side. Jor bends down again and places his hand on his brother's arm. “Fen open the locket, at least remember mother, continue for her.”

Thunder crashes overhead. The frozen, ruined hovel they are held up in shakes violently. Ice and mortar fall, opening up the ceiling to a bright aurora which replaced a once lively sun. The fantastical greens and yellows are slowly being obscured by the approaching storm.

“He’s here Fen, and I wont leave without you!” Jor says, heightened anxiety in his voice. The wind overhead starts to howl violently. Fen’s ears are still ringing as he opens the locket, revealing images of their mother and father. His breathing slows, and he brushes the ice from his face.

The two cautiously exit the ruined structure, greeted by a quaint Scandinavian coastal town. It’s completely frozen over at the bottom of the mountain. A once familiar home to the brothers is now a desolate wasteland. Fen pauses for a moment, recalling a time before the frost when he and Jor owned a tattoo shop. He remembered his passion, integrating old runic symbolism into each piece of art. The linework and patterns, simplistic, but powerful in meaning. They made Fen proud of his heritage.

Now the shop sits at the center of town, frozen and abandoned. Just another skeleton in a boneyard of memories.

The storm clouds are concentrated over the town. Each strike of electricity is a powerful coordinated attack. Fen watches as each memory disappears, and finally the old shop is struck, crumbling into dust.

“Jor I have never seen a storm like this. What is it doing?” Fen asked in disbelief. “He’s searching,” Jor said, haste in his voice. “Come on, we need to get ahead of him, we're almost to the top.” Before he moves, Fen says, “Jor wait, what are those?” Fen points out what looks to be a dark black cloud following the blasts of lightening. “Ravens,” Jor says plainly. “Mind the skies, we do not want to be seen by them.”

The brothers continue onto a trail leading them further up the summit. Jor, leading, holds a poisonous green short sword tightly in his left hand ready for use. Fen carries the longer marbled steel blade at his side, again lost in thought. The snow is deep and the incline grows steeper.

Their father used to bring them up to this peak when they were young boys. “Come on boys! You’ll love it I promise!” He would say, “My father would bring me up here every year on my birthday, so it’s only right that I do the same by you.” He was a charming and clever man, always quick with a joke. Their mother always made sure to emphasize this when telling the stories of how they first met.

A stone gate sits atop the mountain, an artifact of a world long forgotten. The young boys would sit for hours staring into the open arch, listening to stories of gods and giants always at war, and a horrible battle to end it all. Their father always finished every trip saying, “One day you boys will walk through these gates, cross a bridge of light, and fight the gods to save the realm of man.” He was serious, but Fen was never truly convinced. He always thought they were more jokes. “These are just dumb stories!” Fen would always say, “it's all just silly ideas from a dead civilization.” Fen preferred the stories of his mother that were grounded in reality.

He was deeply saddened when cancer took her.

Her death, and conflicting ideas, created a distance between Fen and his father, but Fen would still participate in the combat training he provided. Between each lesson, he would also tell stories of how the gods manifest on earth. Jor was more open minded, listening and learning from his father. Fen just treated the training as exercise, laughing and leaving when gods came up. Their father, angry, shouted, “Your fate is fixed! This is your future! When all the game pieces fall, you are destined to dance with the gods!”

This was all before he disappeared, three years ago, just as the frost started.

Fen’s daydreaming ends quickly as he loses his footing, slipping down the steep incline. Jor yells after him, running from the cover of the dead trees. Fen instinctually grabs a small axe from his side, digging it into the cliff, and slowing himself to a stop.

“Fen, can you get back up?” Jor yells down. “Yeah, I think. Hang on,” Fen yells back. He reaches for his side and pulls out a knife, digs it into the ice, and finds a better grip. Just as Fen starts to move up, a low caw is heard in the trees, and suddenly a raven dives towards Jor.

Jor’s blade slashes through the air making contact. Only, the bird doesn't fall. It turns to shadow, passes behind him and reforms in the shape of a god. This shadow figure looks old but strong, holding a long spear. Jor turns immediately with his blade blocking the spear inches from his face. The shadow speaks in a low growl and says, “Where is the wolf?” Jor does not respond, but gladly engages in combat.

Fen catches a glimpse of this figure, and suddenly all of his father’s stories are true. Fearing for his brother’s safety, he climbs quickly with all of his strength.

After a series of perries and strikes, the bottom of the shadow’s spear connects under Jor’s chin, knocking him down, and causing him to drop his weapon. The shadow’s spear then points at Jor's throat, ready for a final strike. It tries to speak again just as the marbled steel blade exits its chest. The shadow lets out a loud screech and fades.

“Holy shit!” Fen says, breathing heavily. He reaches out, grabbing his brother’s arm and raising him to his feet. “Fen, where was your head! I could have been killed! ” Jor shouted in a rage. “Was that enough for you!” Fen is speechless, his eyes on the ground. “Come on, we’re almost to the top.” Jor says with a tone of finality. He grabs his sword and moves ahead.

The brothers approach the end of their journey, and they notice the thunder stopped. The cloud is moving once again with great speed, but now towards them. “RUN!” Jor yells, and both of the brothers move as fast as they can.

The gate is in sight, and quickly approaches. A stone monolith, both familiar and not, shining with every color imaginable. “It's now or never, Fen. Are you ready?” Fen nods, and they both cross the threshold.

The brothers instantly find themselves on a bridge of the same colors, but in a world between worlds. The Earth and all threats left behind them. They feel a warmth that they haven't felt in years. They remove their thick furs, revealing light armor that moves fluidly with their limbs.

Jor charges ahead when he notices Fen motionless. He softly says, “Jor I don’t know what to say...you and father...I’m...so sorry for doubting you...and for what happened back there...you were right. It's just...between the man who was trying to steal our gear, and then us leaving our home...I didn't realize how overwhelming that would all be...and...our parents…” He trails off holding the locket in his hands once again.

Jor walks over to his brother, and puts both arms on his shoulders, “It's okay Fen. Maybe I was too hard on you...Mother and father would be proud, know that.” Jor grabs the locket out of Fen’s hands and places it around his neck. With this Fen gives his brother a hug and says, “Let's finish this for them.” They walk the rest of the length of the bridge, weapons in hand, eventually meeting another monolithic gate.

A scarred red sky and an open stone courtyard meet them on the other side. A massive tree towers over a burning city in the distance. There are four figures before the two brothers. The tallest, a similar figure to what the brothers just encountered, but old and with one eye. He carries a long golden spear. To his right a shorter man built like a bull, with a full auburn beard, and a hammer in his right hand. The hammer is fully electrified, arcing in every direction.

There are also two men on the ground, one is clearly dead, with a gilded horn on his belt, and a familiar knife in his back. Their father is the final man, speared through the chest and pinned to the stone behind him, barely alive. Weakly he says, “My sons…” and laughs softly. The auburn god walks over and strikes him across the face to silence him.

The old god speaks with a low gruff voice and says, “Finally. The wolf and the serpent arrive. I must admit I expected more.” As this old man speaks, his arrogance and overconfidence are apparent. “We had no luck on earth, but here…” He starts to laugh. “There's nowhere to run!”

“No more running,” Fen says.

Jor immediately charges at the Auburn god, and Fen to the elder.

The poisonous blade flurries with the electric hammer. Small jabs of the blade cut flesh, and it's done. This god is dead, it's only a matter of time now. Fen engages the old man, unleashing an inner strength, and matching the elder god with every strike. The anger and frustration in both opponents starts to build.

Jor’s movements are quick, and his jabs are shallow. This auburn god has a speed unlike anything he has ever encountered. Jor fears he might tire out, when a final lucky jab penetrates straight through the center of the god’s chest. Jor drops his guard, thinking he’s won, but the god has one final blow left in him. The electric hammer connects right with his temple.

Jor was dead before he hit the ground. The auburn god lays dead beside him.

Their father musters a cry, coughing up blood. The death of his brother causes Fen to falter, allowing for one thrust of the spear to enter his heart and exit his back. The old god lets out a cheer. The spear cut through the locket’s chain which has now fallen to the ground, covered in blood. Fen stares down the old god, lets out a fierce war cry, and slices the spear in half. The god is terrified at the raw power. Fen proceeds to pull the spear from his chest, and stab it into the heart of the god. Then with one swift swipe, he removed the god’s head. Both bodies fall.

Fen looks towards his father apologetically. His father returns with a knowing nod, and both men let out a final breath.

Back across the bridge spring has arrived. The absence of corrupt gods, and the extinction of man allows the world to be reborn.

And yet the game pieces stand once again….