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blades. Directly across from me was Selvick, a slimy boy with black dreadlocks and a crazed look to him. Beside him was the red-headed walrus, stu ng his face with a goat leg while irt- ing with Helka at the same time. The last trainee I was unfa- miliar with. He had a long face, ending in a pointy chin, and a cool, calculated gaze. He was staring at the re, impatient for training to begin.
We marched out of the hall into the frigid weather outside. My ears froze without the usual protection of my hair. We climbed down the steep hill and through the wet snow. to the icy shores of the ocean below. “Your rst task will be to swim across the bay, to the rock cli s on the other side,” my father roared over the wind. The distance to the cli s wasn’t far, but the tempera- ture of the water would be brutal. “GO!” I sprinted to the edge of the water and dove in head rst. I was shocked by the tem- perature of the ocean and was paralyzed for a few frightening seconds, but I willed my arms and legs to move. I started to swim, making my muscles move faster and they
began to warm up. To my surprise, I wasn’t in
last. Helka’s dense muscle didn’t seem to be
helping her out much and Selvick was making
strange gurgling noises. The walrus of course,
being in his natural habitat, was way ahead, his
rolls of fat acting as buoys. The stranger with the
long face was right on my trail. My arms became
numb, so I ipped onto my back and kicked as
fast as I could. Suddenly, a blond head popped
out of the water close to my feet. The cool eyes
caught mine, as his hands snatched my ankles
and pulled me into the water. I tried to get a last gasp of air, but only ended up with a mouth full of seawater. He held me under for a second, then kicked me to boost himself forward. I struggled under the water for a minute, my limbs numb and ribs throbbing. A pale hand grabbed mine and helped me to the surface. Selvick let go and kept on swimming. I continued to kick on my back until the shore was beneath my feet.
The sun was just rising as we nished climbing up the cli , turning the sky orange and light blue. I ended up in last after all, but at least I didn’t freeze to death or slip o the cli . We each got a slap on the back from the jarl as we each headed home. The walrus received a huge grin and I got a “nice e ort, Meyla.” I walked back through the village and up the moun- tain to my home, the Jarl’s Hall. The servant thralls were rush- ing around the great hall, preparing for the fast approaching week of feasts. My clothes were still damp and my limbs numb. Mόðir Friega, the closest person I have to a mother, scolded me for my frozen chopped hair. The stout and ruddy cheeked woman dragged me upstairs and warmed pots of water for my bath. I stepped into the large basin of steaming water, my skin tingling as it defrosted. The warm water cradled me and I started to doze o .
My eyes opened to the bright glare of the sun. I stood up in a meadow, the heat of the sun ooded around me. There were owers everywhere and birds sang above me. A twig snapped in the trees behind me. I turned to see a black mare, entering the clearing. It boldly approached me and sni ed my hair. I put my hand up to touch the horse, but it backed up in alarm.
The mare reared up and I fell to the ground. After a second, I looked up and the horse was no longer there, but a wall of black fog was rolling into the meadow, leaving ash in its wake. It surrounded me, I couldn’t breathe. Darkness.
I had slipped under the warm bath water and I coughed up the water in my lungs. I got dressed and walked into the village to pick up my archery gloves from the tanner. In the heat of the midday sun, snow was melting and dripping o roof tops. The village was bustling, with children running around in the mud, and large viking men chugging down ale. Their excitement only made me more nervous for next week and my Raun. I walked through the throngs of people and to the blacksmith’s cabin to talk to Helka. She invited me into her kitchen, and we skinned a goat as we discussed this morning’s training.
“Rough morning, ay?” Helka asked me. “Ya, for sure, I just can’t wait for Keldaboð to be over,” I responded. “Hrogan seemed to have enjoyed himself.” Of course the walrus loved the training . . . he lives for that kind of stu . “Who was that stranger who trained with us?” I asked her. “I heard him say his name is Vadar, a sher- man’s son. Apparently he lives on the out- skirts of the village,” We nished skinning the goat and washed up. I returned home to
prepare for tomorrow’s training.
The next three days’ sessions were much like
the rst. Although the training only lasted a few hours, it left me exhausted for the rest of the day. We were instructed in archery, boating, and survival. We also repelled down the mountain, and hunted for fresh game to feast on next week. The next two days, we were allowed to relax and train on our own time, as the festival was set to begin on the third morning. Vikings from surrounding villages were swarming during these two days of rest, and wooden ships lled our har- bors. The village was lled with a mix of stenches. At one point, I could detect the smells of sweat, animal dung, fresh sweet
rolls, ale, and mountain owers all in one whi .
I actually enjoyed myself the rst few days of the festival, danc- ing, feasting, and playing games. However, the end of the week quickly approached, and the nal day arrived, the day of the Rauns.
That morning, I woke up very early, my stomach aching in an- ticipation. Hrogan was snoring loudly, so I stepped outside. The spring morning was clear, and the air fresh. I knew today would be a challenge. I may not be the strongest or largest vi- king girl, but I was not going to let my family down. I went in- side and got dressed. The walrus and I walked down to the vil- lage together, in silence. Bjorn the Skull Splitter sounded the horn and the villagers and visitors started to trickle in. Within a half hour, the village was buzzing and the drums were beating. I swore my heart was going to leap out of my mouth. Hrogan, Helka, Selvick, and Vadar took their places standing next to me. The drums got louder and louder as the villagers began to chant our Viking war song. A sense of pride and love for these
“In no time at all, the full rage of my vil- lage was unleashed on these invaders.”
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The Blackbird Review