The first stab wound was to the neck. It made a wet sound as the blade slipped in. I kept stabbing, his neck, his chest; over and over. Panic took me, and I made ugly, animal like noises as the blade penetrated him repeatedly. He must have bled out from his wounds, but even then, I still didn't stop stabbing him.
Not until the pain gripped me.
A sharp pain shot down my arm and settled in my hand. I had felt pain before, but this was something different. My breath hitched, and I collapsed to the ground. The pain continued until a glowing blue light formed on the back of my hand, and when the light finally dimmed, what remained was a tattoo in the shape of a blue snowflake.
"Sigurd!" Runa's voice called to me, but it disappeared with the wind.
Everything went black. It was as if I were standing in endless darkness, with a cold chill slowly rising up my skin.
"Sigurd," a voice called. "Hallowborn. Son of Winter."
The voice seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
"Who are you?" I called out into the abyss.
"Who am I? I am your patron."
My patron? The seer claimed that a god had planted a seed in me; could this be him? I wondered which god it was. The voice sounded awfully familiar.
A freezing wind whistled passed my ear, and my feet sank below something soft and cold. Snow? Strangely, my eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and the cold wasn't as unbearable as before.
I was left speechless when I saw the person I was speaking to. It was him.
"Old man... Is that really you?"
The same old man who was with me up until my execution. The same old man who I argued with hundreds of time. That old man was right in front of me now.
He was seated underneath a tree as white as the snow below my feet. A blind old man who looked like a sack of bones. He greeted me with a kind smile which revealed a row of rotten teeth.
"Good to see you again, Sigurd," he laughed, finding my confusion amusing. "I see your assimilation has begun," he said, addressing the tattoo of a blue snowflake on the back of my hand.
"Old man? It's you?"
He smiled at me and nodded his head.
"What do you mean Assimilation?" I asked.
"It's the seed I planted in you at your naming ceremony. I've granted you my power. That power is activated when you first take a life, where it be human or animal. It is now up to you to nurture and grow it to its fullest potential."
His power? Does he mean…
"Magic?" I mumbled. "Are you the All-Father?"
"The All-Father? You think I'm the All-Father!" he cackled hysterically, falling back against the white tree behind him, his milky white eyes never leaving mine. "No, I am not the All-Father, so you won't be using magic."
He held out his hand, and a raven made of ice began to take shape.
"I am Hodr, the Blind God of Darkness and Winter," he said proudly. "Concentrate, focus on your breath, and you'll feel your energy at the base of your stomach."
Following his instruction, I closed my eyes and focused on my breath. Then I felt it, deep inside, I sensed a circular small mass of energy. The energy was enveloped in darkness and it has a binding coldness to it. The darkness seemed to draw me in with every passing second.
But overall this power felt incredible. My mind was reeling from the high it gave me.
"You must figure this power out for yourself. I am bound not to get too involved with you. I am also the one who reincarnated you, and for that, I hope this second life of yours will be one you will be content with," he said before a strong gust of freezing wind blew in from out of nowhere. The wind brought with it a spiral of snow.
"It seems our time is up."
Before I could utter a word, I was back where I was before. It felt like a dream. I opened my eyes to see Runa crying while holding me in her arms, Floki's body not far from where we were.
"I'm so sorry, Sigurd. This is all my fault. I'll fix this," she cried. I had never seen her cry before.
I slowly raised my hand and wiped the tears from her eyes. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that I was awake.
"I'm just glad you're alright, Runa. That's all that matters."
My words did little to comfort her, as tears still dripped from her chin, onto my clothes.
I glanced over at Floki's dead body, bleeding out on the grass. There would be a price for this; even I knew that. Murder doesn't go unpunished in Norland. Especially when you murder someone so close to the Earl.
"Don't worry about it, Sigurd. This is all my doing; I'll accept full responsibility for this—"
"Let's feed him to the pigs," I suggested, staring into her eyes so she knew I was serious. "Floki's life meant nothing; it's only logical for it to be discarded as such."
My words must have felt frightening to her, considering they were coming from a child but she knew I was right. A woman killing a man was seen as taboo among the people. Runa would be defiled and dragged naked along the street. Her death would be a slowly painful one, lasting for days or even weeks. I couldn't let that happen.
Runa understood this, that was why she nodded along. There was a sharp gleam in her eyes.
I felt no guilt after killing Floki. It was strange; it was almost like I was feeding off his death then I noticed it; the mark on my hand moved slightly. Soon, the mark faded completely as if it was never there.
Runa and I carried Floki's body to one of the pig farms outside of the village where no one would see. We didn't move an inch until the pigs devoured every piece of evidence that he had ever existed. We then burned his clothes and everything he had on him soon after. The only thing left was his dagger, which I secretly hid.
"You should go home, Sigurd," Runa whispered, her face puffy and her eyes red from tears. "I'll head back to the field to watch the sheep."
After everything that happened, I figured she would need some time alone. So, I allowed her to leave with her shoulders slumped as she walked away.
When I got back home, my mother was asleep, and the food Runa had prepared for her before we left was now crawling with ants.
She was always so stubborn. She refused to eat; not because she was sick, no, but because she was fasting for my father's safe return. She even refused to drink water. I suspected that this was the reason her illness had worsened.
Even while racked by fever and pain, she would still climb out of bed to go pray for him. She spoke about him constantly and tirelessly; it felt as if there wasn't a moment when he wasn't in her thoughts.
Since my mother was asleep, I used the time to clean myself up.
The injury on my head wasn't as deep as I thought, but my face was still stained with blood. The mark on my hand had disappeared, albeit temporarily.
Floki's dagger was tucked into my pants. My mother cleaned the house regularly, so it would be impossible for me to hide it here. Ultimately, I decided to hide it in a spot behind the chicken coop.
When my mother finally woke up, she was surprised to see me. She wondered why I wasn't with Runa, so I made up a lie, saying that Runa and I had gotten into an argument and that I left her to watch the sheep by herself.
She shook her head and chuckled. She believed me because Runa and I were constantly getting into fights.
"Your aunt Runa cares about you a lot. Try to make up with her soon, ok?" My mother said, rubbing my head.
When Runa returned, she kicked in the door and immediately started complaining about how hungry she was. She complained about having to stay outside all day in the sun watching the sheep nibble on grass and how boring it was.
It was all an act so my mother wouldn't suspect anything, and thank God she didn't. Acting like a brat was the only way Runa could mask her true feelings, and I suspected the banter it stirred up between her and my mother cheered her up a bit.
When night feel, she climbed into my bed, maybe needing a little comfort. This time though, I didn't chase her away. Instead I closed my eyes and fell asleep with her cuddling next to me.
Runa and I never spoke of the incident again. Nor did we have the chance to; over the following weeks, I fell sick. It was the same illness that plagued my mother. I was racked by stomach pains and a blinding headache, one that nothing seemed to cure.
Some days, I was left bedridden, and my body started to grow frail to the point where I couldn't even eat without being spoon-fed. My mother prayed night and day and blamed herself. She believed that she was the one who passed her curse onto me.
Whether it was a curse or not, no one seemed to know. All I knew was that both of us were suffering from the same illness.
But one day, when I was feeling a bit better, my excitedly mother took me into the village, and I saw ships. Long ships gliding across the surface of the water.
The ships had the carving of a dragon on the front, and the sails bore the sigil of a three-headed raven.
All the villagers were gathered at the docks, watching and cheering as the ship came closer to land. My mother smiled happily. I could tell she had been excited about something for days, but I couldn't figure out what it was until now.
"The Jomsvikings!" they shouted.
"The Jomsvikings have returned!"
Jomsvikings?
My mother gave me a warm smile and patted me on the head.
"Your father, Sigurd," my mother's eyes were teary. "He has returned home to us."