Chapter 44 Calder
CALDER
The Depths
Calder gasps as his boots land in what looks like the Treland longhouse. A roaring fire crackles in a long hearth. Tables laden with food, overflowing mead horns, and flickering candles churn a homesickness in him.
Briny, dressed in cotton trousers and wearing colored rope jewelry, scratches his head, clearly uncomfortable with his choice to bring Calder into the afterlife. He opens his mouth as if he wants to explain what is happening when someone bursts through the archway opposite the door they entered.
A figure he hasn’t seen in nearly thirty winters stares back from across the hearth.
“Father?”
Avard Frodisson has not aged a day since passing at a mere thirty-four winters.
His hair is cropped closely to his scalp, one of his final acts to spit on the Salt Warrior culture he blames for the downward trajectory of his life.
He is a lean man devoid of the usual tattoos of most Salt men and displays his usual no-nonsense expression.
His rich brown eyes flicker in the firelight, and he doesn’t seem entirely surprised by his son’s sudden appearance in the afterlife.
To think Calder stands older than his father will ever be.
“I don’t care that the pantheon forsook his fate because of Makt!” He turns on Briny with furious anger, waving a finger in the god’s face. “It is not his time!”
“Father, I have not died.” He steps closer as if he is once more that little boy trodding after him from Skalor to Treland.
Avard abandons his reprisal of Briny and turns to Calder, pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace. “My boy!” He manages to laugh through tears of pure joy.
After all the Iss Drengr has endured, feeling the warmth of one of the few people who ever cared about him steadies his nerves. “Father, I have missed you.”
Avard pulls him away, his eyes sparkling with a happiness he hadn’t witnessed in the man when he was alive. “Why are you here, my boy?”
“The love of my life was taken to the Abyss by Makt. I have come to get her back.”
His father nods in understanding. “I have been graced with rumors here and there to know your journey to destroy Makt.” He spits his name with disdain. “I need you to know how proud I am of the man you have become. My greatest regret is having left you to such an unforgivable life.”
Calder swallows down the lump in his throat. There will be time to process his father’s words, but he cannot afford to let anything else compromise his emotions. Makt deserves all the loathing he can muster against him.
He places his hand on his father’s shoulder with a sad smile, knowing he must cut this moment short with Aura’s life hanging in the balance. “I must continue. The Abyss will claim her if I am not swift.”
Avard scowls at Briny. “I will walk him to the gate.”
“If you enter the Abyss, I cannot recall you back, Avard,” Briny warns, gesturing toward the doorway where his father had appeared just as another figure materializes at the archway.
“Excellent, I caught you!” Another ghost from his past strides forward, dominating the room with his tall, muscular, and stately appearance. The late King Thord Hilmirsson's kind smile widens, leading Briny to scoff, slumping into his chair.
What a cheerful life in the afterlife they all must lead while hating one another.
“I wish to join Avard and lead Calder to the Abyss. It is my granddaughter’s soul at stake.”
Briny’s eyes narrow, his hands tighten around his mead horn. “Now, she is your granddaughter.”
Wait, what is this about?
The newcomer sighs dramatically. “We agreed the blood in our son would be mixed between us, meaning we share the grandchildren as well. You were always such a sore loser, Briny.”
Are we still discussing Aura?
Briny slams the half-full mead horn onto the table, spilling its contents onto the floor. “You played dirty that night on the beach, and you know it!”
Why do I sense this bickering is about Frida, Sigvid’s Mother?
Calder pounds the butt of his great axe into the floor. “If either of you cares for Aura, you will show me to the fucking Abyss!”
Briny offers a quick nod and a wave of his hand. “Go along, Thord, ever the bloody hero.”
Calder glances between the two men, uncertain where the animosity is brewing, choosing to ignore it and focus on entering the Abyss.
“Lead the way.” Calder intentionally walks between Avard and Thord, aware that animosity toward the King also extends to his father, who never stopped blaming him for Lavinia's impact on his life.
“Is there more for me to know?”
They exit the longhouse and enter an open field surrounded by thick blackwood trees. Other souls meander about, talking and laughing, but Calder catches many of them eying their progress straight ahead toward a vast lake.
“Nothing you cannot handle.” Avard pats his back, shooting a death glare at Thord, who seems unaffected by the bitterness of his once-friend and warrior.
They continue, and Calder notes a warm glow that wraps the land in natural light, even without a sun burning overhead.
“You’ve certainly become quite the Drengr.” Thord regards him with a broad smile. “I’m glad to hear my son has had some sense knocked into him.” He shakes his head as if Sigvid were a young boy learning to play well with others.
“Your boy is a menace who put my son in a terrible situation by forcing him back to Skalor.” Avard interrupts.
“Sigvid bears both god and berserker blood in his veins,” Thord announces proudly, not addressing Avard, who mumbles bitterly to himself.
They turn away from the lake and its sparkling water to stroll along the shore until they arrive at a crumbling dock stretching over the light current.
Thord and Avard halt just before they reach the planks.
“Once you enter, your seidr will vanish. Briny cannot come near the gate or risk losing his powers and becoming trapped in the Abyss.” Thord explains.
Then it is true that Makt and the others are locked inside.
Avard steps forward. “No soul or mortal has ever entered the underworld and returned. I have no knowledge to impart to you, my son.”
Wonderful.
“You might be able to convince the King of the Dead to release you since you are still a mortal man in our realm. However, releasing Aura’s soul will require some persuasion.” Thord adds.
Avard mutters something about ‘Draemonium.’
“Before you go, Calder,” Thord hesitates, “please tell Sigvid and Avina that they are the King and Queen I always prayed they would become. And,” Thord looks a bit sheepish, “he can access the Depths with the Treland Sacred Stone anytime. Tell him I look forward to sharing mead with him, should he wish to make amends after all these winters.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Calder inclines his head to Thord, who yields to Avard.
“I long to meet this extraordinary girl whose life is worth risking two afterlives.”
Calder embraces his father, trying to focus on a positive future.
“Try not to strangle Thord in the meantime.” Calder lowers his voice.
“I can take him.” He grunts. “One more thing.” He pulls Calder closer. “Those in the Abyss will know you're coming if Makt has your girl. You might also run into more than just Makt in the Abyss.”
“I will be careful.” He offers the promise he knows he cannot deliver.
“There is no holding back. You are the Iss Drengr. Ensure they know your name before you cut them down.”