The Chosen of Anthros
Sneak Peak of The Fires of Muspelheim
Copyright © June, 2015 by Travis Simmons
The Harbingers of Light Book Four:
The Chosen of Anthros
Published by: Wyrding Ways Press
Cover Design by:
Najla Qamber Designs
Formatting by:
Wyrding Ways Press
Editing by:
Wyrding Ways Press
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means—by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual places, events, and people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Dedication
There are people that come into our lives and show us that warriors do exist. They are brave in the face of adversity. They are loving in the face of hatred. They are forgiving when they shouldn’t be. They support us when we’ve lost the will to support ourselves. They continue fighting, putting one foot before the other when most people would give up and sit down. They may not face demons and dragons and trolls like warriors in great fantasy books, but in their own way, the illnesses and personal demons they struggle with are just as overbearing and malevolent as any goblin or ghoul. I’ve had the good fortune to know and love many warriors in my life.
I dedicate this anthology to my father, Edward Simmons, my mother Yvonne Simmons, and my aunts Penny Tresidder and Eleanor Jeanette.
The little boy sat on the edge of the giant well kicking his feet and watching the reflection of dancing leaves across the silvery surface of the well. This was a special well because it didn’t hold water, it held the mystical force of wyrd that all harbingers could control to one degree or another.
The wind was warm, the sun was cheerful, and the birds sang gaily from the bows of the great Tree at Eget Row that rose majestically out of the center of the Well of Wyrding.
Despite the lovely day, the boy’s thoughts were dark.
He bowed his bald head, and stared entranced at his ink smudged fingers as if he could still see the blood on them. For the umpteenth time he rubbed his hands against his white robe, but all that did was add to the plethora of existing ink smears on his clothing.
“How could I not have seen,” he whispered. “How could I have been so foolish?”
In the distance, over a hill to the north, the lone cry of a wolf drifted aimlessly on the wind.
The little boy shivered.
The giant wolf, Anthros couldn’t reach him here. Not with the ties that bound him to the root of the great tree.
But that’s not precisely true, is it?
The voice called into his mind.
The boy closed his eye against a fresh wash of tears.
It’s your fault,
he told the voice.
This would never have happened—
If you hadn’t broken the rules. You know full well what you did was just as much your fault as it was mine.
But the boy wouldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it.
I created him out of love,
the All Father thought back at the baleful wolf who had taken up residence in his head some time ago.
What came next was your doing.
But your act of
love
broke the rules of the void. If not for that, I would not have gained access to the Ever After.
The cries were still fresh in his ears. The blood tainted his inky hands.
The liquid wyrd rippled beneath the rim of the well, cresting up to dampen the soles of his feet. He shivered.
“Great All Father, why do you cry?” a woman’s voice asked.
His gaze drifted to the right to where the mermaid, Skuld, rested against the edge of the well. Her glittering green fin flickering just beneath the silver surface. Her long black hair trailed over her bare breast. Her nose was upturned, coming to a point at the end where a delicate horn curved toward the bridge of her nose. Milky pearls gleamed within the coal locks of her hair.
“I must leave this place, Skuld,” he told the Norn.
“But why?” she asked him, trailing closer to him. Her blue eyes were worried.
“Can’t you see that?” he asked her.
“My province is the future,” she told him. “Once something has come to pass, it slips from my mind. Besides, the Gods have no fate save Ragnarok.”
The All Father shivered. “I’ve done a terrible thing, and paid a hefty price.”
“What is this terrible thing you’ve done?” Skuld asked him.
The All Father watched a squirrel break from the surface of the wyrd within the well and skitter up the trunk of the enormous tree until he vanished within the lower branches.
“I’ve tried to remove chaos from the void,” he said, wrapping his arms around him as a chill took his small body.
“But that’s impossible. You know better than to try. Greater powers than you or I govern the void,” Skuld scolded him. Not many would scold a god, but the Norn weren’t like most. Even still, not many could make a god feel scolded like the Norn could.
“I know,” his head bowed closer to his chest.
“And how did you do this?” she asked.
“By creating the God of Peace. But Skuld, I managed it. I was able to create a completely perfect being with no trace of chaos within him.”
She frowned at the All Father. “And what was the price you paid for this accomplishment?”
The All Father shook his head. A tear traced its way down his cheek to fall glistening to the surface of the wyrd. The tear rested there for a time, like a perfectly tumbled gem before it slipped beneath the surface, never fully mixing with the wyrd. He watched it sink lower and lower like a stone in a pond.
“Does this have anything to do with the destruction of the Ever After I see?” she asked.
The All Father nodded.
Skuld frowned. “Why did you come here, All Father?” her hands dipped back under the surface of the wyrd and tread the silvery liquid. The wyrd sparkled in the sunlight, nearly blinding to normal eyes. The power of the well glowed a reflection in the All Father’s eyes.
“I need to know,” he said.
“Need to know what?” Skuld cocked her head.
“What kind of damage I caused to the nine worlds. I already know what damage I’ve caused in the Ever After. I need to know that mankind is safe from my treachery.”
Skuld frowned. “There is no way for you to know that, only the Norn can see the full scope of what you’ve done.”
“Yes, but you could tell me,” the boy insisted.
She was shaking her head no before he finished. “The threads of fate are many, and they are complicated. There’s no true way of knowing which future fate is the true one until choices are made that bring it closer to the present.”
“But I need to know the possible futures my actions brought about,” the All Father said. “Please.”
Skuld inclined her head to stare at the young god. She could see the pain in his eyes, the desperation therein. “Very well, but there is a price to pay to drink of the well.”
“Anything, name it.”
“There is power within you,” she said. “Your eyes hold so much power.”
The All Father looked up into her eyes. She wasn’t hungry for his power, but he understood, to partake of her power he had to revoke a bit of his own power. He waited to see what the Norn wanted.
“If you drink of the Well of Wyrding then you will know many things. You will see many threads of future fates.”
“I don’t—”
Skuld held up a long finger to silence him. “That you will see, and more. But I could tell you of one who can help you.”
“Who would that be?” the All Father asked.
“Surt.”
The boy recoiled. “Why in Muspelheim would I go there?”
“He’s created a weapon before, did he not? One that could have taken care of your problem?”
“You’re suggesting that—”
“All I’m saying is if you want to make amends for what you’ve done then you should be prepared to do what needs doing. Your hatred for darkness is the very thing that will allow darkness to slip through.”
Over the rise of the hill, the All Father heard Anthros let out a baying howl. He shivered, the power of the howl mirrored within him. His eyes fell on a place that he couldn’t see, but he knew all too well. After all, he was the one who imprisoned Anthros there.
“I need to see what I’ve done. I will only make a decision after I’ve seen.”
“Very well, if you only wish to see what your actions have done that should be easy enough.” Skuld waved a hand at him. “The price for seeing what only the Norn can see is one of your eyes.”
“My eye?” the All Father flinched. “Who in the Ever After would ever ask for such a thing?”
“It’s a simple request. Either I have your eye and you gain our site, or you may never know what your actions have caused.”
The All Father rubbed his hands on his robe and took a deep breath. “Alright.” He nodded woodenly.
“You seem uncertain about this, All Father,” Skuld said, easing forward through the wyrd.
“You’re asking for an eye,” he responded incredulously.
“An eye for an eye,” she responded. If she was gaining any pleasure from his discomfort, the All Father couldn’t tell.
The All Father reached up to his eye. His fingers were cold where the tips touched his lids. He looked steadily at Skuld, knowing this would be the last time he saw out of that eye. His hand began to shake, but this was something that had to be done. He had to know what damage his disobedience caused.
