Fimbulwinter: A Norse LitRPG Progression Fantasy (Warriors of Valhalla Book 2), page 1
Warriors of Valhalla
Fimbulwinter
Tim Steiner
Copyright © 2024 Tim Steiner
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Contact mail: tim.steiner.books@gmail.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
PROLOGUE – Baldur
Chapter I – Promises
Chapter II – Holmgang
Chapter III – Breakfast
INTERLUDE
Chapter IV – A Journey to the West
Chapter V – Lone Star
Chapter VI – Midgardian Mall
Chapter VII – The Room
Chapter VIII – The Beginning of the End
Chapter IX – Destroyer of Worlds
Chapter X – Warlords
Chapter XI – Defenders
Chapter XII – Return
Chapter XIII – Dilemmas
Chapter XIV – Prisoner
Chapter XV – Chains
Chapter XVI – Seidr
Chapter XVII – A Secret World
Chapter XVIII – Reign in Blood
Chapter XIX – Realm of Mist
Chapter XX – In the Depths
Chapter XXI – The Mysteries of Freya
Chapter XXII – Magic
Chapter XXIII – Rebuild
Chapter XXIV – Mead of Remembrance
Chapter XXV – An Invitation
Chapter XXVI – Plans
Chapter XXVII – Underworld
Chapter XXVIII – Dwarf Lord
Chapter XXIX – Path of Blood
Chapter XXX – Gates of Hel
Chapter XXXI – A Gathering Storm
Chapter XXXII – Final Battle
Chapter XXXIII – Realm of Flame
Chapter XXXIV – Legacy of Iron
Thank you for reading!
PROLOGUE – Baldur
"I saw for Baldr, the bleeding god.
The son of Odin, his destiny set,
Famous and fair in the lofty fields..."
– Voluspa, Verse 32
TWO THOUSAND YEARS EARLIER
Loki stood by Odin's side as their ship glided through the air, piercing through the realms and entering Jotunheim. Reality shifted, time expanded before shortening again, revealing a frozen landscape over an endless sea. Icebergs rolled slowly in the distance, and a massive landmass with black pyramids and endless armies came into view.
A hundred thousand Jotun stood at the shores of their continent, massive magic ships floating mid-air, filled to the brim with giants with pale skin and gleaming eyes wielding spears and lances.
Loki shifted uncomfortably. The old man’s plan was clear, but Loki wondered how it would unfold.
The Allfather tapped on the shoulders of his son, Baldur, and the young god smiled. His hair was as white as wool, parted in the middle and dropping gracefully right above his shoulders. He looked much too confident for his own good.
And Loki despised that. He hated how Baldur had become Odin’s second in command, that dumb buffoon with no will of his own. Loki abhorred that feigned compassion, that attitude befitting a servant and not a god. After all, he was a perfect slave to his father.
Odin smiled fondly. "Go on, my son, I’m sure, as the Norns spin their threads, that our enemies shall submit to our will. Remember, if they do not deserve your mercy, do not offer it to them."
"I have my own views on that, father. You’ll see. Trust me, I have a plan that will not fail."
"I trust you, my son, but I do not trust them."
Loki wanted to throw up. Did that boy really take his place? He had once thought Odin was in his grasp, following his advice blindly. Not so much anymore.
Loki had to change things again. Odin used to follow his counsel. Loki had thought the old god was one day going to leave his mantle to him. But the way things were going, Loki would never gain control of the realms.
Baldur nodded, took a deep breath, and jumped overboard, gliding through the air, arms extended as he faced the endless army, like a star falling from heaven.
"My kinsmen," Baldur’s voice echoed across the vast expanse. "Children of Ymir, brothers of my blood, I come on behalf of my father Odin. This is your chance to lay down your weapons and become one with the Aesir. Join us, and let’s make Ymir’s dream come true."
A noise rumbled among the Jotnar armies, the tumultuous echo of laughter reverberating through the sky. A single figure raised above the air, Hrymr, chieftain of the Jotnar, with long pale hair and a long mustache. His paper-thin skin displayed every muscle fiber and vein of his body.
"This is our response," Hrymr shouted, ascending through the heavens. "Tell your father to stick his offer back inside his wrinkled ass. We have our own terms and they are as follows: give back what you took from us, return the [Power] to Jotunheim, and accept our right to rule, as it should have been. Odin must give himself in for the senseless murder of Ymir. Abandon this abominable universe he created and its puny inhabitants. Grant them to us as property, their rightful owners, so that we may put them to good use!"
"I warn you," Baldur said. "We shall take Jotunheim. We wish not to destroy you, but for you to join us, like the Vanir did. It is best for the Nine Worlds if this war is finally over. There’s no use weeping over past losses. The men of Midgard are also Odin’s progeny, so they are not to be enslaved by you again."
"Ah," Hrymr hissed dismissively. "The Vanir are cowards. We shall never yield! Odin has no right to rule, and I swear upon Ymir and all of my ancestors, that all of Asgard will die before we accept his rule! So now, if you still dare to attack, son of Odin, our magic knives will slice your flesh and maim your bones, and if your spells deter us, we shall take you and bind you in our dungeons."
Baldur looked back at Odin for an instant. The one-eyed god nodded from above.
"Watch this," Odin said to Loki, in a low voice. "He’s been rehearsing this line for hours."
"I cannot wait," Loki declared blandly.
"I swear," Baldur said, lifting his hand. "By Odin, that I shall defeat your tens of thousands."
Loki gritted his teeth.
A sudden glow emerged in Baldur’s palm, a blinding light that seemed to coalesce into being.
That was the worst part.
Loki didn’t know how, but Odin had given the boy too much power.
It was known that Baldur was the sole holder of the Essence of Renewal. But there was something else. Perhaps, a part of Ymir, Loki didn’t know what it was.
But in the past months Baldur had become stronger than any god in Asgard.
The entire pattern of reality seemed to bow to his will.
Those foolish sons of Odin, even Loki’s own sons, gathered together to test Baldur’s newfound strength. It was said that he had no weakness and that no weapon could even scratch him.
Loki had even tried to bring Baldur to his camp, maybe by controlling his foolish impulses and thus hold control of Odin. But it was of no use. The fool was blindly loyal to his father.
The glow in Baldur’s hand turned into a sword of white light, longer than Baldur’s stature, reverberating with power.
"I have warned you," Baldur shouted, his cape and white hair fluttering as he did. "You have one more chance for peace!"
That was when the magic blasts started flying toward him.
"Attack!" shouted Hrymr, with his generals relaying his orders, as hordes of Jotnar propelled into the air with powerful leaps. Baldur descended like an arrow, undeterred, arms spread open, even while holding that blade of light.
That was when the first Jotun blade came into contact with Baldur’s flesh. Powerful maces aimed at his head, arrows oozing poison and magic, blasts of magical energy, all hurled at the god. Loki scanned for Baldur’s life-force, but even that was impossible to read.
He watched attentively. It was as though space and time itself blended on him, swords faded into nothing. For an instant, Loki wondered if he was just witnessing an elaborate illusion by Odin’s hand. But even the ancient dwarfish weapons failed. The Jotnar tried to wrestle him, to grab him and take him down, but he slipped as if he were made of light, others passed by him, making their way toward the Asgardian ships above.
Loki observed in silence. Of course, no Jotun would be a match for him, but he had secret dealings with Hrymr. They had it all planned.
"I have told you all to yield," Baldur shouted again, turning around and facing the fleet, while a horde of Jotnar circled around him, wildly raising their weapons and striking him.
And then, Baldur shifted, like lightning flying toward the sky. The half-dozen Jotnar who were reaching toward Odin were cut in half in an instant, their bodies exploding into blurs of blood and flesh. More and more Jotnar ascended toward them, all of them were cut down by lightning.
"I have forewarned you all!" Baldur shouted, lightning crashing behind him and cutting down all the Jotnar who had passed above him. "Whoever passes by me shall die."
Lightning struck; Jotnar bodies collapsed, shredded into pieces, and bursting into explosions of blue-blood. Baldur t urned forward, as if intentionally ignoring the result of his magic.
"You cannot hurt me!" Baldur’s voice echoed around Loki, coming from all directions. "I hold your lives in my hand. So I urge you, desist and yield yourselves to my father, the creator of this world."
For all of Baldur’s feigned mercy and understanding, Loki could see through it all. Odin wanted to plant his son as a benevolent ruler while also deterring his enemies.
Loki’s eyes drifted toward the sea. Baldur had faded from view, and the Jotnar hordes stared about in confusion, their leaders ordering them to remain attentive.
Suddenly, a blaze of light erupted in the heavens around the Jotnar. Something took shape among the clouds. It was a human figure, gleaming like the sun itself, rising over the pyramids and mountains of Utgard. Baldur was seen there, larger than the city, and his voice echoed and reverberated in Loki’s ears. Even Loki found himself in awe.
"Desist now, yield yourselves to Odin’s peace," said the young god. "You are not fighting for control of the Nine Worlds."
Then, his voice shifted again. It was as if the wood of the ships spoke, and the iron of the swords, the strands of wool in their capes and textiles, even the clouds and the light of the sun, as if he spoke through all matter and every fiber of reality.
"I am the Nine Worlds."
Chapter I – Promises
Alruna slipped under the blanket and gently kissed Blake on the lips. It felt wonderful to be close to her again, waking up to the touch of her skin. He embraced her tightly, savoring her morning kiss.
"Morning, treasure" she whispered into his ear, as the sun pierced through the curtains and immortal birds chirped outside.
"Good morning, babe," he replied, his fingers gliding across her back as he gave her another gentle kiss.
"I'm glad I could wake up earlier to enjoy you," Alruna said softly, lifting herself up, the blanket slipping from her back and revealing her glorious golden hair and the shift that barely concealed her ample chest.
Eir was also sleeping beside him, closely huddled to him and wrapped in her own blanket. She stirred silently, perhaps about to wake up, and Blake could feel her awareness changing through the bond.
"Morning," Eir said gently, her platinum hair still tied in messy braids, eyes half closed. Then, she faced Alruna. "Aha. Now it's my turn."
She leaned in and rested her head on Blake's chest, closing her eyes with a contented smile, breathing deeply. Through the bond, Blake felt her security and happiness. He wrapped an arm around her and drew her even closer. Now, both Alruna and Eir were resting their heads on his chest.
He shifted his gaze, noticing that Brynhilde was still asleep, arms and legs spread, wearing another skimpy shift, the blanket crumpled and far away from her body. She did not seem to enjoy cuddling as much, but having her around was also fun.
Blake took a deep breath, feeling Alruna's joy through the bond and relishing in it. It felt just too good, even though he was basically sleeping on a carpet on the floor. Not even the best hotel bed could compare to lying down with three women he loved. He felt like getting up and preparing breakfast for the three of them: a good old-fashioned American breakfast.
Suddenly, a deafening scream broke the silence. Blake opened his eyes, an instinct rushing through his mind, making him feel the need to protect whoever it was. Brynhilde had leapt to her feet, screaming at the top of her lungs, then panting with her eyes half-closed. Electricity seemed to coalesce into her hand.
"Bryn!" Blake shouted, running toward her. "Stop!"
The light in the room seemed to gather around her, fading everywhere else.
Every muscle in her body seemed as tense as the strings of a violin.
She lifted her arm.
Blake leapt toward her just as a blur of blue light emerged from her palm and flew upward, crashing against the roof and piercing through it.
"Bryn," Blake said, arms around her, gently but firmly. "It's alright. You're home. It's fine. It’s just me."
She panted, opening her blue eyes, looking around, just as Blake held her tighter. "Bryn."
Her eyes finally locked on him and she gasped, as if slipping back into consciousness.
"Blake," she let out softly, raising a hand to her forehead and running it through her hair. "I... I thought I was..."
"It's alright. You're here in Asgard."
"Oh," she looked up at the massive hole through Alruna’s roof, with pieces of hay gently drifting inward.
"Ah," Alruna got up, her hair a beautiful mess. "Don't worry about that, we'll have it fixed."
"Oh, by Hvelgemir, I'm sorry about that," Bryn said, shaking slightly. Blake couldn't help but feel worried for her. He knew she had gone through hell back in Jotunheim, and this only went to show that it had affected her deeply. He searched the bond. Now, she was feeling only embarrassment. Blake reassured her through the bond.
"We needed to fix it anyway," Alruna declared.
"I’ll fix it myself, now that we have a bit of time," Blake replied.
"You?" Eir mumbled, leaning forward, her voice slightly deeper than usual, but looking gloriously cute in that tiny shift, her modest chest curving graciously, and her long white legs in full display, up to her thighs. She seldom wore things that didn't cover her ankles. "Blake, Alruna has servants for that, you have better things to do."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, I just had a bad dream," Brynhilde mumbled, running frantic hands through her fiery hair.
"Bryn..." Blake looked at her with concern, reaching for her hand.
"It's alright. I am incredibly hungry though. And what's that smell?"
Brynhilde moved toward the kitchen. Blake could see her trying to conceal her tremors. Damn, what she was feeling was rough, and he honestly didn't know how to help her. Having seen how Sigyn had treated her made Blake’s blood boil, and nothing got him angrier than thinking of that brand around her collarbone. Brynhilde concealed it by wearing more furs than usual. That was something Blake wanted to fix. The first step was to get revenge on that bastard Hrymr.
Before they were about to step into Alruna's kitchen, a loud knock echoed around the main door.
"Huh?" Blake turned. Whoever it was knocked hard. It became even louder and more insistent.
"Oh, no," Alruna said, rolling her eyes and running a hand through her face. "Not now, please."
"Who is it?"
Blake approached the door, but Alruna grabbed him by the arm and lightly pulled him back.
"It's fine, my treasure," she said after letting a pent up breath. "I'll get it."
He could feel a bit of tension through the bond, as if she knew who was behind the door and didn't like it.
She reached for a varafeld, wrapped it around her shoulders and opened the door, revealing the sunlight of a bright summer day.
"Good morning to you, father," she said in a formal tone.
"Good morning, daughter," said a cold, distant voice.
"Oh, shit," Blake hissed under his breath.
"I came to pay a visit," Kiar continued, almost pushing his way inside. "Now, where is my son-in-law? We have some issues to discuss."
"You are always welcome, father," Alruna said, making way, slightly hesitant and casting a glance inside. "Feel free to come in, just allow us a couple of seconds to look presentable."
Blake rushed toward the stand to quickly slide a red tunic over his naked torso. Eir and Bryn scrambled about, rushing to remove the blankets and pillows, stuffing them into Alruna’s room, and emerging wrapped in large varafelds.
"We have visitors this week," Alruna clarified, as Kiar stepped as if inspecting his own property.
"Fantastic," Kiar mumbled, casually glancing at the hole on the roof for a moment.
"Lord Kiar," Blake said. Kiar's eyes shifted towards him. Blake noticed his attire. He was dressed in a simple yellow tunic with embroidery, a toga, and felt trousers. The style was not particularly Norse, and seemed like something out of the end of the Roman Empire, when trousers became fashionable and were no longer solely worn by barbarians. His hair was short, light blond but with strands of white on the sides.
"Ah, my son-in-law." Kiar advanced slowly, his voice pompous and proud. "I heard much of your return. Ladies, it is my pleasure to see you again."
Bryn and Eir nodded without saying a word.
"I'm glad you heard. Welcome to my home," Blake said. "We're about to have breakfast, if you'd care to join us."
