The Sons of Adam: The sequel of The Immortal Collection (A Saga of the Ancient Family Book 2) (16 page)

And then someone threw me my two small axes. I always thought that it was Skoll, or always hoped that it was. Better that than think that they appeared out of nowhere.

What happened next was an atrocity, there was no nobility or glory in that act. I killed her slowly, with small cuts, as if she were a tree, and not by my own choice. I would have ended her suffering faster, but I didn't have suitable weapons, or the strength left to kill her more quickly. It took hours. I suffered for her, I cursed the laughter of the
berserkir
, I've never been able to cope with a mother's agony.

There was still a wall of flames at the entrance to the cave, I thought that the
berserkir
were waiting for me outside, that when I threw the bear's paw out, they would help me to get out. But they didn't, they'd forgotten about me and they'd left. I had to cross the line of fire and some of my clothes caught alight. I burned my feet because I was blinded, walking over the embers without finding the way out. My lungs were burning, as if I had swallowed hot coals.

I went back to camp, where I found them all sitting around in a circle, warming themselves by the fireside. I could see the surprise on their faces, as most of them didn't expect to see me alive again, although I didn't return with empty hands. I held the bear's decapitated head out in front of them.

"Who wants it?" I interrupted, looking at those horrid faces for one last time.

The eleven
berserkir
, including Skoll, threw themselves at it. They all wanted it, it was magnificent. It would bring much fear in a battle, the kings would fear it, the reputation of the person wearing it would grow and it would be talked of in the Skaldic sagas.

"Where's the cub?" I asked, without letting go of my trophy.

"What cub are you talking about, boy?"

"The bear cub, it's a newborn."             

"We left it in the forest, half a day to the north."

They had exposed it, they had left it to the night, to the cold, to the vermin.

I tossed the bear's head into the fire, and they all leaped into the flames to rescue it, like demons entering inferno. I took advantage of that moment to run, despite the blisters on my feet, despite the fact that I had no feeling in my arms after so many blows with my axe.

I ran looking for the cub, although she found me, a couple of miles later. I guess that I had her mother's scent on me. It was tiny, I picked her up and shared my body heat with her that first night. For the next few days I fed her, taught her to hunt small game and find bee hives, wild berries... the kind of things that bears eat.

"I'll wait for you," I said, when I left her. "I'll come back when you're ready and you can avenge her death. I'll let you kill me and repay the debt."

I've been back to that forest a thousand times, and I've never seen her. But I know she survived. Now there's a shopping mall on the edge of the forest, but I still go back there regularly. I still look for that bear and her offspring. I firmly believe that blood debts are passed down through the family.

I returned to my father's farm during the night. I sneaked into the
skali
when they were all asleep, and left a piece of birch bark with runes I had carved under his bed.

Father, I'm not sure that I deserve your forgiveness.

If you come, you will find axes and trunks,

and a repentant son.

I waited for him in the clearing in the forest where I trained every day. It was the longest night of my life. The sun began to rise on the horizon with a slowness that I had never seen before, and my father didn't show up. I knew that I had humiliated him, running away with a group of
berserkir
, that his heir would leave a stain on the family that would be hard to forget, that he had probably heard about the savagery I had perpetrated.

I waited all day, but my father never showed. I fell asleep, right there, in front of the trunk I used for training, with an empty stomach and nothing to drink. I was just waiting for my father.

The sounds of the forest woke me and some heavy footsteps in the snow. I jumped up, alert but disorientated.

And that's when I saw him, my father, running towards me.

He looked at me as if I was a ghost, horrified of seeing me like that, with burned feet and boots, with bear blood still covering most of my body, freezing cold, starving and in shock from what I had been through. He covered his mouth with his hand, with a gesture that made me feel totally impotent, and then fatigue took over and I lost my balance. He lunged to catch me as I fell and hugged me. He hugged me with his strong arms, on the floor, and sobbed like a child, saying my name over and over again.

"I just saw it, Gunnarr. I didn't find your message until today. I almost lost you, I almost lost you again, son."

I glanced at Gunnarr, he swallowed and his chin trembled slightly. He was staring at the wall of the cell.

My father forgave my wrongdoing. My uncles, Magnus and Nestor and my aunt, Lyra, reacted with a joy and relief that I was not expecting. They always treated me like some precious gem, a gift, something exceptional. They didn't criticize me or mention it ever again. We never spoke of the
berserkir
again.

Days later my father decided to celebrate the
Jól
Blot
, the winter solstice, in my honor. The whole farm joined in with the festivities, everywhere you looked there were women making bread, cutting vegetables, steaming pots on fires, wild boar simmering over the coals. They took the glass goblets that my Uncle Magnus had brought back from the Rhine out of the trunks, a rarely-seen luxury in those parts, where we were used to drinking from horns or wooden mugs. They covered the walls with splendid tapestries that I didn't even know we had.

They hired musicians to cover the hillside with the happy sound of harps and bone flutes and my Uncle Nestor played an ancient bronze lur, whose deep sound, they said, kept bad spirits away.

We played games and had ski, sledge and snowshoe races. The elders took turns at playing checkers and other games imported from places that were further south.

My father was ecstatic, and all the neighbors who had been invited went to congratulate Kolbrun on the return of his wayward son.

We had another thirteen nights of celebrations ahead, thirteen nights during which we had to climb the hill, singing and shouting, to bid farewell to the sun on the "Night Mother" of the year.

"I misjudged you, son," my father said, happier than usual, during a break from the races. "You're older than you appear. I thought that at your twelve winters you were a boy, but you've lived through adult situations. I've spoken with one of the daughter's of our neighbor Knud, she's big like you, and she likes the look of you. I think the time has come for your initiation into manhood. But first, listen well. You already have the vigor of several wild boars, and you're still growing. Make sure that you never confuse strength for pleasure, and pick strong women who can handle your force."

"Father," I interrupted, "I thank you. I really do, but I'm not interested in your proposal. And please tell that young lady that I admire her beauty and courage, but I am definitely not the right man for her."

"Are you sure, Gunnarr? I'm not going to be one of those fathers who forces their sons to go through the rite of passage with toothless slaves, but you have to know that if you stay chaste, people will talk."

"Father, only the weak and insecure act upon fear of gossip.  I really don't care what others think. The only thing that matters to me is living up to my father's expectations."

"As you wish," he said, with a large grin, and we touched foreheads before he disappeared with a horn of beer in his hand.

I watched him go, slightly concerned. I don't know what happened that day. It was as if someone had tampered with the drinks. I tried the
jólaöl
, the spicy beer that was only drunk during those celebrations, and I thought I could taste a hint of earth that I was familiar with, and that shouldn't have been there. Not even my Aunt Lyra's mead tasted the same".

"Oh," I interrupted, without meaning to, "Lyra's mead. I'd forgotten about that, it was delicious."

"You tried Lyra's mead?" he asked, raising his white eyebrow. "When the hell was that?"

"Last year, during summer solstice. We had a party in the bay. Iago, Nagorno, Lyra and Lür were there. It was amazing to watch the four of them jumping over the fire. That was the first night that your father and I were together, the first night that I decided to believe him,"

I think that I was talking to myself. I think that I needed to, to take myself back into a happier past for a moment, where Iago was still with me every night.

Gunnarr looked at me, frowned and scratched his forehead,

"Wow, I hadn't thought about you two as a couple with a history to tell."

"I'm very aware of that. For you I'm just another stepmother, out of the many you have had. One that you can kidnap and use to keep yourself entertained during your nights of insomnia."

He clenched his jaw and his fingers trembled on the blanket.

"Ok, let's continue. I was telling you that I started to get worried when I saw that everyone was more drunk than usual. My uncles, Magnus and Nestor, gave me a couple of stupid grins and held their horns up when I walked past them. Even Lyra had to sit down because she felt rather dizzy.

I was worried, and could tell that something dark was about to happen.

And that's when I saw them.

The eleven.

They were standing in a circle on the top of the hill, surrounding my father. They were wearing their bear masks and they had taken their shirts and capes off. They had come to fight, with their shields in the air and their swords drawn. Seven of them had red foam around their mouths, Skoll had drugged them more than usual.

Their leader appeared with the head of the bear I had killed on his head, circling my father, who was stumbling around with his empty horn of beer. He had lost his dignity, his demeanor and his poise. He was just a stumbling drunk.

Skoll stood in front of him. The musicians stopped playing and crept away, the elders stood up and rushed to the barn to flee with the horses. The women scattered, looking for places to hide.”

"Kolburn, you know why I'm here. By the powers granted to me by King Svend, I challenge you to the sacred duel of our ancestors. The winner shall take possession of everything the other owns. The loser will not be allowed to return to the Vallhalla, a place where there is no room for cowards."

My father walked over to him and they stood face to face, without taking the smile from his face.

"I've been waiting for you, you bastard," he said in a harsh tone.

And then he fell to the ground, unable to keep a dignified stance any longer.

"This is going to be easier than I thought," Skoll muttered to himself.

He threw his shield to one side, drew his sword, which had destroyed many bodies, put his foot on my father's neck and raised his sword with both hands, ready to drive it into my father's chest. My father just looked at him, with a smile on his face, without understanding what was happening".

19

Charles de Gaulle

IAGO

Marion weighed up my words. Some small snowflakes fell on her black hair, but she didn't seem to notice.

"That's why you were in such a hurry," she muttered, looking serious.

"That's right."

"So, that's it? We find each other again and you've leaving?"

"Marion, I don't know how to fit all this into my life right now. All I know is that my wife's life depends on me and I have less than three weeks to do the impossible. I can't look any further than that, I don't want to look any further than that. Tomorrow morning I'm leaving for Santander. You've got my card with my number, which you can call, and I can get hold of you through Pilkington."

"Is that a goodbye?"

"I'm afraid so."

Marion looked up into the dark sky and closed her eyes, as if taking in the moment.

Then she stood up, picked up her vintage Cartier purse and took out a flashdrive.

"Here's a copy of all the research from the Kronon Corporation with regard to telomerase behavior. It's encrypted, our son's name is the password."

She then left the balcony and her queenly footsteps walked her downstairs with dignity.

I put the flashdrive in my pocket and ran after her.

"What was his name, Marion? What was our son called?"

Marion looked at me in surprise, and stopped in her tracks.

"Don't you remember? What were we, just another family amongst the thousands that you've had?"

No, Marion, the dearest, the most loved, the most longed after.

"I remember that our son took a year longer than normal to say his first word. I remember that he inherited my aim, I remember that he hated the corn stew you made and he poured it into the dog's bowl when you weren't looking. I remember him digging ditches next to me, hour after hour, night after night, to plant seeds that the rooks tried to steal. I remember how I tried to turn him into a good farmer."