The Damaged Soul by Troy Calkins

Father lets us pick through his share of the treasure and take what we want. He always lets his crew take their share first then he takes what is left. I find an old shabby case. Upon opening it there is a magnificent hammer. It’s white and gold. I pick it up and warmth radiates from it. It feels so right in my hand. It makes me feel good and full of joy and warmth. I put it back into the case and take it to my room. It reminds me of the hammer in the cave, the crimson one that no one can pick up. Both must be special. I can just imagine wielding such a hammer. A vision of myself with it as lightning rains down from the sky enters my mind.

---

“The shield wall is one of our most important defenses. The men unite into one strong wall with three rows of shields. The first row kneels down, using their shields to defend our feet. The second row moves into the gaps and bring their shields down to the torso while the third row brings their shields up to the head. At any given moment, men can move their shield to thrust a spear through, or several men can move aside so the archers behind can release arrows. Let me ask you, when do we use the shield wall?” father asks as Thorkel, Thormar, and I listen carefully.

“We use it on the battlefield, when we are facing another army,” Thorkel says.

Father shakes his head. “And.”

“To defend against arrows?” I ask.

“That is another reason. Yes, but not the only,” father says.

“By nature, what are we?” father asks, staring into both of us with his stormy blue eyes.

“We are Vikings,” Thorkel says, sticking his chest out.

“You are right. And what do we do?” father asks.

’We raid,” Thorkel says.

“Once again, you are right,” father says with a nod, making Thorkel’s chest stick out a little farther. “So, if we are raiders, what strategy do we primarily use?”

Thorkel takes time to think upon it, but I blurt out what comes to my mind. “We attack. We are on the offensive in a raid.”

“Exactly. And do you use a shield wall when you are attacking?” Father asks.

“No…” Thorkel says, hesitantly scratching his head.

“Why not?” father asks.

“It wouldn’t be very effective on the offensive. It slows you down and limits your ability to attack,” Thorkel says, nodding.

“Exactly. So why would we use a shield wall?”

“When we are being attacked?” Thorkel asks.

Father nods. “That is precisely why we use it. We use a shield wall to defend, which is rare with our kind, but it happens. When we find our ships being boarded, we use a shield wall to defend against the invaders. When we find ourselves being ambushed, we use a shield wall. When we find arrows raining down on us, we use a shield wall. However, we are not the kind of people to act in defense. We strike first and attack. We are the aggressors; we set the pace for the battle. In order to do that, we choose the battlefield. To win, you must be one step ahead of your enemy. To win war, you must be deceptive. To be deceptive, you do what is unexpected. If you know your enemy expects one thing from you, you do something they would not expect. If the enemy expects you to march to meet them on the open field, you wait in ambush on the road to the battlefield. If the enemy expects you to defend the walls of your city, you open the gates and hide within to ambush them as they enter. Like snaring the hare in a trap, you spring it on your enemy as they enter the grips of the snare.”

“That makes sense,” Thorkel says.

Father smiles. “Does it now? So, if I were to bring four ships upon you as your three ships raid a merchant ship, what would you do?”

Thorkel thinks about it. “We’d attack them one at a time?”

“That might work. What if they were elves and can use magic? Would they not burn your ships with flames? That would make attacking devastating,” he says.

“Then we’d retreat,” Thorkel says.

“For how long? Their ships are faster. Surely, they would catch you, and they have a greater number,” he says.

“I don’t know then. What would you do?” Thorkel asks.

“Well… I’d scatter my fleet in different directions, finding better places to fight. This would divide their fleet as well as they would have to decide on who to pursue and would ultimately decide to divide and pursue each ship. Or they would send all their ships to one of ours. Either way, it gives us a better chance of survival. I’d also use the merchant ship and ram it into the biggest threat they have, immobilizing their ship that way, taking away their advantage. A storm would make it hard to chase, but it also limits our ability to fight, and storms are never easy to weather. Now, one interesting fact is that our ships are smaller and lighter. Do you know what that means?” Father asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That they don’t sink as far into the water?” I suggest.

“Precisely. I’d find shallow waters where our ships can hover over the top and the elves would surely get stuck. South of here, there are waters near the shore with large spiky rocks rising from the ground. This is a perfect place to lure the elven ships as our ships glide right over them and theirs will crash into them. But for the sake of this discussion, let us say you must face the elf’s head on. What would you do then?” father asks.

“I’d board their ship and kill them,” Thorkel says.

Father shakes his head. “You’d die and so would your men. Sure, we have some protection from their magic with these amulets your mother and Sigvor provided us, but we do not have enough to go around. And it only protects us from a direct attack. That means if they have some kind of spell to attack us with the environment around us, these things are useless. Would you still attack?” Father asks.

“Well, no. But what can you do?” Thorkel asks.

“What did I tell you about their ships?” father prompts.

“That they are bigger and sink further into the water?” Thorkel asks.

Father nods. “What do we have on our ships?”

Thorkel and I both think for a second before I hesitantly say my thoughts. “Ballistas?”

“It’s ballistae, not ballistas,” Thorkel says, punching my arm.

Father nods, a smile forming on his face. “Either way, your brother is right. What would you do with them?”

“You’d use the Ballistae to sink their ship, right?” I ask.

“Precisely. With our Ballistae, we have bolts that are made to punch through the hull of a ship. They have a big hammer for a head. You’d fire these into their hauls. As many as you can to sink their ship and retreat.”

“But we are not cowards, father, and what about all the loot we can get from their ship?” Thorkel asks.

“Sometimes, my son, it is better to escape with what you have than risk losing it to the elves for something more. Live to fight another day,” father says, his deep blue eyes locked onto Thorkel. “There might be some honor lost in retreating and running, but at least you have tomorrow, and if you’re fortunate, the days that follow to gain it back. But if you die, you die regardless of your honor. And let me tell you, son, there might be glory in death, but there is no honor in it. Nor does your death provide for your family. What will they do when you are gone?” father asks.

“But… I thought it was the most glorious thing to die in battle,” Thorkel says.

“The only time you should consider sacrificing yourself or your men when escape is still an option is when the reward is big enough to merit the loss, the cost of not doing so outweighs your life if you were to retreat, or lastly, there is no retreat and only death. If your death will save the lives of your men and your family, you do so with honor and glory. To sacrifice your own life to save the lives of all those you care about is the greatest honor and will be rewarded with the most glory. Now, I want you to spend until the sun passes the top and makes its descent studying the sword and shield forms I taught you. You will use practice swords and will spar with each other, using the strikes and combinations you were taught. Your goal is to land a blow on the other. We use practice swords to learn from being struck because in battle, a strike against you means death,” father says as he holds his hands behind his back.

“Yes, father,” we both say as we get up and grab our practice swords and shields. We face each other and engage. Thorkel is faster and more practiced with the forms, strikes, and combinations. Thormar and I spend a lot of time learning from being struck. By the time the sun finally reaches the top of its height in the sky and starts its descent, Thormar and I are covered in welts and bruises, while I only got one strike against my brother.

“And remember, do not lose all that matters for one that doesn’t,” father says with a smirk. What is that supposed to mean? “Now let us break for our midday meal.”

We follow our father into the hall where father’s uncle sits with Gudrod. Gudrod’s eyes light up when he sees us. “Thorkel! Bothvar! Thormar.”

Thorkel sighs under his breath as the boy scrambles to his feet and rushes over to us. He looks so pleased to see us. Like a puppy finding his long-lost brothers. Thorkel only brushes Gudrod aside and grabs a plate of food before sitting next to father. I wrap my arm around him and mess his hair up. He beams up at me with that jolly smile he always wears. I like having him around. He always lightens the mood. Father breaks away and heads to grab food. “Nice to see you, uncle.”

“You as well, my nephew. How goes training with the boys?” Uncle Alvi asks.

“Oh, it goes… They’re learning fast, and that is good,” father says, as he stuffs his face.

“Ahh, it reminds me of when your father and I trained you and your brothers. It feels like yesterday,” Uncle Alvi says.

“You have brothers?” Thormar asks as I grab a plate and sit down next to Gudrod and him.

“Have you been living under a rock?” Thorkel asks as he swats the back of his head. Thormar tries to get him back, but he is too quick.

“Had brothers. My eldest brother, Thorkel, died and my other brother was exiled and stripped of land and title. He is no longer my brother,” father says. I was only a youngling when Borgar betrayed our family. I don’t remember him very well, but I remember the hurt he caused us. Thormar must have only been a baby then.

“Ahh, yes, Borgar gave much shame to our family. I still remember when you two were boys, you used to fight all the time. Thorkel would constantly have to break you both up. Then things would get so bad, that Thorgrim would snap and lose his temper. My brother would always try to swallow down his temper like a mug of mead, and when he swallowed too much of it, it’d come up like vomit and spew everywhere,” uncle Alvi says.

“Yes, father had an explosive temper. He was fine, mostly. At least when we were young. He seemed to have less control over it as he got older,” father says.

“That he did. Anger is like poison you drink, hoping your enemy dies from it,” uncle Alvi says. “I am surprised you haven’t told Thormar about your brothers. They should know their family history. They have the blood of kings within them.”

“Bothvar and I know about Borgar’s betrayal, but I never knew we had the blood of kings in our veins,” Thorkel says.

“Yes, we descend from the first great king, Ragnar himself. It was his son Bjorn who discovered these lands. Bjorn settled in Chillshore, naming it as such for how cold it is there. Bjorn had many sons, but two stayed here, Hogni and Ragnar. However, Hogni and Ragnar started a fight that led to a civil war between them. Ragnar defeated Hogni and exiled him and his followers. Can you guess where they settled?”

“Here?” Thormar asks.

Uncle Alvi nods with a great smile and Thorkel thumps Thormar on the head, calling him a know-it-all under his breath. “You are correct again. Ragnar went on to have a strong line of descendants, leading up to the previous king Teowulf Bothvarsson. King Teowulf was our distant relative. Now, Hogni had two sons of his own, Leidolf and Orni. Orni, I believe, only had a daughter named Alfdis. She had a son and no one quite knows who the father is, but she says his name was Skuli. However, her son’s name was Fenric. Do you know what he was significant for?”

“That name sounds familiar,” Thorkel says, scratching his head.

“Does it have anything to do with Fenris Village and the Wolves?” Thormar asks, earning him another elbow from Thorkel.

“Yes, you are quite right. You see, something happened between Fenris and Eyvald, who was Leidolf’s first son. His second son was Geirolf and I’m not sure what happened to him. Anyway, something happened that caused Fenric to split off and lead some people to Fenris Village. They say he could talk to wolves and that is why they call them the Wolf Clan,” Uncle Alvi says.

“Fenric probably started it,” Thorkel says. “The Wolves are always instigating.”

The elf man with bright blue eyes comes out of my Aunt Sigvor’s room and gets a plate to fill with food for her. My father gives a nod of approval. Uncle Alvi only shrugs. “Perhaps. Who knows… Never judge someone until you have walked a mile in their boots. That way, you’re a mile away with their boots.”

My uncle grins and even the elf man laughs, which makes my uncle’s smile widen. “Anyway, Eyvald had two sons… wait, I mentioned that already. Well, Hallkel also had two sons. Can you guess who they might be?”

Thorkel, Thormar, and I look at each other and shrug. Our great uncle smiles widely and points at himself. “Well, me, of course! And my older brother, Thorgrim. He was normally a jolly merry-go man. Loved to laugh and have fun, but also had a bad temper that got him into many fights. Anyway, I hope you can guess the children of Thorgrim.”

“Well, father was one,” I say with a smile. Father nods.

“Well, obviously,” Thorkel says, punching my arm. “And you mentioned my name and Borgar.”

“That is correct. Thorgrim’s oldest son was Thorkel. A man you got your own name from. Then there was Borgar…”

“We don’t like to talk about Borgar…” Father says in a stern tone. He stares off into the distance.

“Why, what happened?” Thormar asks.

“I said we don’t talk about it,” father says rather roughly.

“It was not an easy time for any of us,” uncle says.

“How come you don’t have any children?” Thormar asks.

Thorkel thumps him again. “Why did you have to ask that, ya dumb arse face?”

Great Uncle Alvi’s face grows suddenly sad. He looks down at the mug in his hand. “I did once… A beautiful wife, a daughter, and a son. Two wonderful children who would’ve both grown to be good people, but they are…”

Uncle looks up at us with a tear in the corner of his eye and smiles. “They’re in the halls of Valholl feasting with their mother, my father, my brother, and Thorkel.”

“I’m sorry, uncle,” I say.

“It is okay. The gods work in mysterious ways. Fortunately, I’ve been blessed with other gifts. Beorcol was one of them, and he has given me some great nephews and a great niece. And fate has put Gudrod in my path and has given me a new purpose. Now I have a second chance to teach the lessons my son and daughter have never learned. Isn’t that right, Gudrod?”

Gudrod smiles. “Yes! Although I didn’t know I was supposed to learn anything. Will you teach it to me again?”

“Aye, ye yeh…” uncle says with a sigh while dragging his hand down his face. “Sometimes the blessings can come with challenges.”

My father and Thorkel laugh while I scratch my head and force a laugh out.

One of the other new slaves goes to grab something from the banquet. Father chucks a knife that lands next to his hand. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

The slave freezes. “I… I… I thought this food…”

“You thought. You shouldn’t do that. That food is only for people who have my permission. Who have earned honor in my eyes and have proved their loyalty. It is for people I like. I do not know you, so, therefore, you eat with the other slaves and people. There is plenty of food in the barn. Now get out of my sight.”

The slave scurries off out of sight.

“Why not let the slave get some food?” I ask.

“Because there is not enough of the good stuff to go around. Besides, I didn’t say he could never have some. I said only those who have earned honor and proved their loyalty and people I like can eat at the banquet. I hope he listened and has taken it to heart. That way, it gives even slaves something to work for. You see, my sons, I am not cruel for forbidding them to eat at the banquet. I am just and fair. Everyone has the opportunity to earn the right to eat at the banquet, but not everyone will earn that right. That slave is new and needs to know how things work.” He pauses a moment to consider his words as he strokes his beard. “I’ll be the first to say that I am not all that keen on slavery, but our society depends on it. Therefore, I have made it so that if slaves work hard, earn honor, prove their loyalty, and gain my trust, even they can gain their freedom and eat at my table. That instills hope within their hearts and makes them work harder, and eventually they become loyal. Never act with malice and cruelty. Fear is only reserved for your enemies, but for those who serve, you treat them all equally and give them all opportunities to rise above their stations. Even the lowliest slave has that right. That is what instills loyalty and earns the hearts of your people. To do that, you must be a fair and just leader, not a ruler that needs an iron fist to command obedience, but someone who leads by example. Someone who provides fairness, justice, opportunity, peace, and prosperity. Slaves may have a momentary life of hardship, work, and some might endure punishment, but they all have the opportunity to earn their freedom.”

“Well said, my nephew,” my uncle says. “You make your father proud. You’re like him in many ways and better in some as well.”

My father’s chest swells with pride.

After we break for lunch, Thorkel and I spot Thormar talking to a girl named Signy Styrkarsdottir. She seems to be rather cozy with Thormar. A grin sprouts on Thorkel’s face as he goes up to them. “Aww look at this, Thormar’s hanging around with a girl. Should we plan a wedding? Thunar knows you won’t get many other options.”

Thorkel can be a bit of a donkey’s arse sometimes. Even I think that was a bit of a punch to the jewels. Thormar’s face burns hot red as he pushes Thorkel, earning him a trip to the ground where he lands flat on his back as Thorkel wraps him in a headlock and rubs his knuckles against the top of his head. “Shouldn’t have done that little brother, you know you can’t beat me in a fight.”

“Get off of me!” Thormar shouts as he kicks and squirms.

“Leave him alone,” Signy says as she tries to push Thorkel off of him. Finally, Thorkel relents and pushes Thormar’s face in the ground as he gets off. Tears stream down Thormar’s cheeks as he gives our older brother a death glare. Signy rushes up to him, placing her hand on his forearm. “Are you okay?”

Thormar rips his arm away and takes off running. “Leave me alone!”

We sneak off out of the city and over to a valley by the river. I turn to Thorkel as we head towards the valley where all the flowers are. “Don’t you think that was a bit too much with Thormar?”

“Oh, come on, Bothvar. He needs a good thrashing. He’s so soft and weak. He needs someone to give him a swift kick in the arse so he’ll work harder to get stronger. The gods know Bodvar doesn’t need one. He’s hardly a toddler and already he’s fighting with the chickens,” he says as he starts to crotch down low once we reach the valley.

The valley itself is covered in wildflowers that are far different than the ones from spring. The fall flowers have more thorns and darker colors. Here we find Asfrid, Arngunn, and the elf girl, Semet, in the middle of the valley.

My brother signals for me to get down as we arrive unnoticed. We sneak through the field low to the ground as the thorns prickle into our hands and trousers down below the knee.

“I wish it were spring,” Arni says as she puts a flower in her hair. “Ouch! The fall flowers are so prickly. And they’re not as pretty as the spring flowers.”

“Oh, stop complaining, Arni. You sound like a toddler begging for a tit,” Asfrid says. I can’t tell what she is doing.

“I do not!” Arni says.

“You always sound like that. Now come on, let’s go,” Asfrid says.

“I just want a few more flowers. I want to make a bouquet,” Arni says.

Asfrid lets out a long sigh. “Hurry up! You’re taking forever.”

“Here, Arni. I’ve got some more,” Semet says. I can hear her shift.

Thorkel moves a little closer, practically crawling on his belly as I try to follow, but I come across a snake and shout out before I can cover my mouth.

“What was that?” Asfrid asks. “Did you hear that?”

“I think so. It sounded like someone shouted,” Arni says.

“Well, obviously!” Asfrid says, standing up. She holds out a large stick. “Who’s out there? We know you’re there.

“I think there are two boys sneaking in the flowers,” Semet says as she stands up and points over at us. “I can hear the flowers say so.”

Thorkel huffs. “Good going, Bothvar. You ruined our surprise ambush.”

He stands up and brushes himself off. I scramble away from the snake as Asfrid whacks him with a stick. “Ouch, what was that for?”

“For sneaking up on us like that!” Asfrid snaps at him as I climb to my feet and pull the thorn out of my hand as it bleeds.

Thorkel punches me in the arm. “We would’ve scared you too if it weren’t for the bull over here. He’s as sneaky as a bear charging through stacks of crates.”

“Hey, I didn’t want to sneak in the first place,” I say.

“And I just found out why, you suck at it,” Thorkel says.

“Hi, Bothvi,” Arngunn says with a smile as she leans closer to me, holding something behind her back.

“Hi, Arni. Whatcha got?” I ask.

Asfrid hits Thorkel with the stick again. “Ouch! Why do you keep hitting me?”

“That was for trying to scare us, you goat-brained, bull-headed, guppy!” Asfrid says.

“It’s a flower, and it’s for you,” Arni says as she holds out a dark red flower full of thorns. She holds it with two fingers. I don’t understand why she’d give me a flower, but I can’t deny that sweet smile of hers and the way it fits so perfectly on her face, just underneath that small, little nose.

“Uhh… Thanks,” I say, forcing on a smile as I carefully reach over, failing to place my fingers where the thorns are not. Somehow, I hold in the curses trying to fight their way out of my mouth. I look around until I find a deep, dark, purple flower and pluck it. Once again, the thorns stab my hand as I hold it out for her. “This is… Uh… For you.”

“Aww, thank you, Bothvi. You’re so sweet,” she says and before I realize it, she has her arms around me in a hug with her face buried in my chest. She smells like the flowers she picks. Or maybe that’s just the flowers themselves. I don’t know. Either way, I like it.