Hitting the Bull's Eye

The bellow of a bull shattered the peace of the forest. Frode rolled his green eyes. “At least we know where he is.” He continued rowing. The drachenboot grew smaller with every stroke.

Gertrud smiled. “Makes work easier for me.” She went back to sharpening her spear. Her hair had already been tied down and leather armor donned. She checked the edge of her spear and grimaced; she returned to sharpening her spear.

They soon made landfall. The two jumped out of the small boat and made sure it was beached. Frode grabbed his crossbow, long sword, and pack while Gertrud grabbed her spear. She cast a quick glance at the sun. “We have ten hours until high tide. It would be a good idea to be in the boat then.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Aye. So I guess we need to get to finding him.”

She nodded, heading into the forest, soon followed by Frode. They carefully avoided the bodies tied to the trees as they entered the dark woods.

* * * * *

She held up her hand and Frode stopped. He had to concentrate, but he heard the panting of the bull. It was close to a hundred paces to their right but a copse between them kept both parties hidden from each other. He looked at her; she was already looking around the area. She shook her head; he sighed.

Mere heartbeats later the source of the panting moved; the sound of hooves hitting the ground hinted at some sort of large animal. They followed it, keeping their distance, watching every step lest they step on a dry twig. With no sound emanating except those from them and the bull, they needed to be even more quiet than usual. Not even the sounds of birds or the chittering of squirrels broke the silence, just the panting of the bull just ahead of them.

* * * * *

They had been tracking the animal long enough that the sun had noticeably moved closer to the horizon. They must have tracked the bull for several miles, but each hour brought them further into the realm of the deposed jarl Njalkare. His reign of Arnarholt began pleasant enough, but as he grew older, more comfortable with being in control, he began taking more and more control over the lives of those under him. His proven skill during raids worked to defend him; it was to gainsay a man who had killed dozens, most with an ax to the head. That he had the muscle to wield his huge battle ax also helped.

He began his rule as a fair man, but several merchants took his money while giving him fewer barrels than promised, lower quality goods than promised, or both. Rather than seeking remediation from their houses, he applied the same logic that he had served him well on the raids and attacked the merchants. His success had two effects: No one messed with and fewer merchants came to his jarldom. This created fewer trading opportunities but Njalkare just increased the number and range of the raiding parties. This, however, increased the number of young men lost on those raids.

After a decade of having to go on more raids and fewer men to prepare for the raids and go on them, however, someone realized that a group of archers could easily defeat a man with an ax, no matter how big that ax was. Six fathers finally tired of losing sons entered his longhouse with murder on their minds. Njalkare swore the lands of Arnarholt would always be his even as six arrows ended his life. His body would be buried under a huge pile of rocks. Life returned to normal.

Until the next summer.

The forest surrounding the town was always pretty and the birds were loud. This made it an excellent place for young lovers to disappear into. That summer, lovers stopped coming back. Granted one or two would disappear each year only to show up in another town, but after the third couple didn’t return the villagers began to search the woods. The bodies were found, attacked as if by a wild animal, but mutilated so badly that scraps of clothing had to be used to identify the corpses. The hooves of an ox were easily found, but they were larger, far larger, than those of normal oxen.

More bodies would be found and hunters left to deal with the creature. None returned. The villagers decided to simply leave. Soon, the bird and other animals would too. As Frode and Gertrud walked deeper into the forest surrounding the former town of Arnarholt, they saw trees become more and more warped, groundcover became less and less, and the quieter the forest became. Even the air itself became drier and hotter the further they walked. All of this was the effect of the draugr, the being rejected by Hela yet with nowhere else to live, so it had made sure that no one else would even want to take his land from him again.

Gertrud finally stopped, motioned for Frode to hide, and then she stepped behind a tree. Frode had just enough time to get behind a bush when the animal they were tracking turned. The huge bull faced the direction of his trackers, flame coming from his eyes. He snorted derisively, then turned back to his former direction, walking slowly but confidently away from the two tracking him.

Frode lowered his head slightly then looked Gertrud in the eyes. She shrugged and then resumed following the bull. Frode sighed, then fell into step with her. The bull led them to a mound of rocks. He turned around, doing so fast enough that he caught the two before they could hide. Frode could swear the animal smiled at the two. Gertrud readied her spear against a charge as Frode cocked his crossbow. The two hoped the animal would charge it.

The bull leaned down on its forelegs, then pushed off, achieving a standing form. Flame enshrouded the animal, then disappeared. In the place of the bull stood a man, a bald man with tanned skin covering thick muscles wearing naught but a leather kilt. He sat against the mound. “So, you’re the latest seeking the jarl’s reward.” He smiled. “I only hope you were not supporting a huge family.”

The two looked at each other, then to the man. They didn’t relax their guard. Frode cocked his head. “There’s a reward? Guess we’ll look into it when we’re done here.”

The man laughed. “Those who do good for the sake of good are fools.”

Frode smiled. “We’re not here for the sake of any good cause.” He put his crossbow down. “I just want a pair of bull’s balls for my ship.” His grin went lopsided. “Care to volunteer yours?” He put his crossbow back up. “They aren’t that big, but they’ll do, I suppose.” Gertrud smiled.

The man’s smile disappeared. “Just remember that I tried to make this easy.” He fell to his hands; as he pushed himself up, he was engulfed in flames. The flames quickly turned to smoke, leaving the monstrous bull behind. He snorted, then charged right at the adventurers.

Frode fired at the bull; his bolt bounced off the bull’s skin. He looked at Gertrud. “This is not going to go as easy as we thought.” He drew his sword.

Gertrud set her spear. “Well, he is a draugr. Did you expect him to go down easily?”

He sighed. “True.”

The bull charged next to the spear. With a twist of its head, a horn flicked the spear away. The spear embedded itself into a tree. The bull smiled as it turned to Gertrud. Gertrud frowned. Frode tossed her his sword and then ran off to where the spear had gone. She caught the sword. The bull charged her. She dodged it, then sliced its side. She smiled as she saw the blood flow from its side.

The bull roared. Then turned. She took up a defensive stance. The bull charged her. She stabbed at it. The bull hit her and she was flung a dozen paces. The bull roared. When she finally stood, she saw that she had scratched it. However, the bull was bearing down on her again, so she rolled out of its path.

Frode had reached the spear. He had to yank it several times before it came out of the tree. With it, he ran back to Gertrud’s side. She saw him coming so ran towards him. She stopped to slice at the bull yet again; she hit it. It roared; she smiled. He saw her running right at him with the bull right behind her. She glared at him; he furrowed his brow in confusion. He realized that he need to set the spear, so he put the butt in the ground and raised it.

She rolled to her left but the bull took a second to realize she was no longer in its path, but it grinned as it saw a new target pop into his view. It just failed to note the spear, which pierced it. The bull impaled itself on the spear until the bull was just inches from Frode.

Gertrud had to pull the man’s fingers off the spear, then pull him away from the dead bull. After a quick snip, the two march back to the boat. The bull exploded behind them.

He also collected on the reward; it turns out that several villagers had wanted to bring Arnarholt back to life, and with the draugr Njalkare allowed to go on to his eternal punishment, they could. They rewarded the pair handsomely. Frode had the testicles preserved and then nailed them to the boat, just above where the keel met the stern.

hen Gertrud looked at him, brow furrowed in curiosity. Frode smiled. “It gives the boat personality.” She rolled her eyes and they went on board, sailing off into the sunset.