Forgotten Gods

“You need to prepare a sacrifice, Kjartan”

She said gravelly, her words carrying the weight of a warning and cutting deeply through conversations that began to quieten down, until the tent was filled with silence broken only by the noises coming from the outside. Her dark eyes were glimmering in the candlelight, but it was hard to say which was fierier – the fire dancing on the knots of the candles, or the sparks flickering in the irises that almost melted with the black pupils. A man whose size could only be compared to that of a bear, slowly turned towards her, wiping the ale dripping from his beard with a sleeve of his tunic. He was a warrior, tall and muscular, strength radiating from his physique. His cold grey eyes caught the light and shimmered dangerously while he scanned the face of a woman who dared giving him an order. Suddenly, he laughed loudly, the sides of pitch woollen tent trembling with his deep voice.

“Mark my words Kjartan. This land is not ours” the woman hissed, her lips becoming a thin line. She looked young, someone could have easily given her no more than thirty winters, when in reality she was older than many of the guests gathered in the festive tent. Only her eyes, dark and deep, showed her true age and wisdom she carried.

“If the Gods didn’t want it to be ours, we would have died in the storm. Nöðar carried us out of the deadly waves of Riennas and we have sacrificed three of our best horses for him. This celebration is for him” voice like a foghorn filled the space.

Kjartan, the leader of their settlement, inspired respect in everyone who followed him. The only person who ever questioned his decisions was Ásðís, the only Seer in their village. No one really knew where she came from, or when exactly she appeared and became the part of their community. Seers were very rare and often they turned out to be liars, trying to get an extra coin here and there by pretending to know how to read from fallen leaves or scry from bones. Most villagers were afraid of her and her witchcraft but accepted her presence as she stayed on the outskirts and rarely made contact with them. Her guidance often came in a way of riddles rather than a straightforward advice, yet despite all that many secretly were seeking her help. There was no doubt that at this point Ásðís held a strong position in the hierarchy, even though most did not like to admit it.

“You know this is not what I am talking about. The lake. It’s the heart of the land and it is older than time. We can’t stay here without giving our respects to Ævílök”.

In the times, when the Old Gods freely roamed these lands and two Suns started each day, Ævílök, the God of Death and the ruler of Underworld, left his kingdom and wandered into the country of men. It was the time for the first mortal King to leave his home and join Ævílök in his Dark Realm.

On his way to the castle, Ævílök walked past a small lake on the edge of the forest. This was the first time he set his eyes on young Kælá, a half mortal daughter of Njárðir, the God of the Great Sea. Ævílök, who stroked fear not only in mortals but also in many Gods, fell instantly in love, a feeling previously not known by him.

The fearsome God quickly proposed to beautiful Kælá and asked her to be his Queen. Not willing to marry the God responsible for death and destruction, the daughter of Njárðir rejected the offer, while the God of Great Sea himself confronted Ævílök with great anger and accused him of betrayal, as no proposal could be made without the knowledge of the father.

“The Old Gods are sleeping, Ásðís. Those stories are just myths told naughty children before bedtime to scare them and make them behave. We gave our thanks to Nöðar, who carried us through the sea and calmed the waves. Let everyone enjoy the feast and the taste of ale. We all deserve it” the warrior summed up and his voice indicated he considered that the end of the conversation. He turned around to the gathered crowd and threw the hand holding a drinking horn up.

“Skóll!” he shouted and was greeted with an intense rumble, people roaring the cheer from even outside of the tent, where many had been celebrating successful expedition by the fires.

In his fury, Ævílök decided to kidnap Kælá and take her to the Underworld, to make her a Queen of his kingdom. The young half woman half deity learned of his plan and before he reached her palace, she gave away the gift of longevity and took her own life, heretofore asking Goddess Hella to join her kingdom in the afterlife.

Njárðir, crushed by his loss and blinded by his anger, decided to betray the Union of Gods and destroy Ævílök. He could not kill the Death himself, so he decided to set a trap for the God of the Dark Realm.

Ásðís didn’t say a word, her eyes slowly wandering from Kjartan, who was now too busy with biting into a roasted lamb leg, to a girl sitting by a table. She has just come of age last Full Moon and was now allowed to take part in celebrations. Her long blond hair was falling loosely on her chest, with only a part of it knotted into tight braids and her light blue eyes emanated warmth that was rarely found these days. Her skin was soft, cheeks delicately blushed with healthy pinkness, full lips widening into heartening smile. Her beauty was radiant, and it was obvious that quickly many men would be seeking her hand.

“Shame” whispered the Seer, so silently that even the people standing closest to her didn’t hear anything. She looked at Kjartan’s only daughter for the last time, then slowly turned around and left the tent that was now thundering with the joyous cheers. Ásðís made her way to her own shelter, noting with a sad sigh that the Moon was almost covered by darkness.

One day, when Ævílök was once again wandering the land of mortals, he suddenly heard the soft voice of Kælá calling his name. God of the Fallen was so mesmerised that he blindly followed the sound until he found himself underwater. Only then the fog cleared from his eyes and the laughter of Njárðir filled his ears.

“I am binding you to this lake and these empty lands for what you have done to my daughter. You will never be able to walk freely again” cursed the God of the Great Sea.

Hundredths of years went by and Ævílök, forgotten by the Gods and men, made a new kingdom for himself in the deepest caves of the lake. He had raised in power and his rule slowly reached the land, when once a year during mid-winter’s darkest New Moon, he was able to leave the lake. Him and his army of the Drowned would bring destruction to the nearest villages, feeding off whoever stood in their way.

During that time, the most beautiful maidens of the settlement would disappear, never to be seen again. It was Ævílök hatred and hurt from Kælá’s rejection that dragged the innocent victims underneath the foggy waters of the lake, making it impossible for them to ever cross the bridge of afterlife and meet with their ancestors. Those who touched the surface of His lake were forever doomed to the underwater kingdom of death.

Desperate villagers tried appeasing the God with many gifts, yet year by year nearly all girls reaching the age of eighteen, would disappear during the murkiness of the New Moon’s night. It was a wandering Seer who spent seven days, and seven nights by the lake, that gave them the answer they were seeking yet not wanting to hear.

Ævílök would be pleased with only one gift - a heart ripped out of the most beautiful mortal girl. If the sacrifice was not prepared, he would attack again.