Welcome to CHAPTER 86 of the Kinsmen Die podcast, home of fantasy fiction based on Norse mythology that’s written and read by me, Matt Bishop. In this podcast I read my first novel, Kinsmen Die, one chapter at a time. And, with each episode, when it makes sense, I provide some commentary about the source materials I’ve referenced in the text. This week we’re back with Vidar Odinsson. We were last with Vidar in Ch 84 where he embraced the strength provided to him by his fylgja. Let’s rejoin him now. You can find me online at: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Matt-Bishop/author/B073NK4HDC The show's public site is here: https://rss.com/podcasts/fensalirpodcast-kinsmendie/ The source for my short reading from Snorri’s Prose Edda is here: https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/pre/pre04.htm The source for my reading from the Havamol is here:https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/poe/poe04.htm Larrington’s translation of the Havamol can be found where books are sold online. Chapter Eighty-Six Vidar Vidar felt the thump of sorcery an instant before the cliff before him rumbled and shook. He skidded to a halt and threw his arms out wide. Behind him, the warband stumbled to a halt. The entrance to the Asgard doorway yawned black before them, several dozen spear lengths away. He’d already killed, with his fylgja’s help, the Jotunn archers who’d intended to ambush his warband. His fylgja had eaten well. He’d then returned to his warband, what was left of them, and led them in a shambling run back to their only way out—the doorway back to the mines beneath Hálsberg. Snow and ice from atop the cliff thundered down, burying the entrance to the doorway. The thud stilled the air for a moment. Apparently, he hadn’t cleared the way well enough. Shamans lingered, and given what he’d fought less than a night ago, snow bears lurked, along with the full strength of at least one Jotunn warband. “Turn about. Keep it nice and tight,” Garilon called out, his breath a cloud around his face. “And keep your eyes open. All directions. Don’t break the line.” Vidar turned to look at Garilon standing tall, one hand pressed against his side, in the middle of a shield wall that was a dim memory of what it had been a few days earlier. Thanks to his mistakes. The remaining twenty-seven braced themselves, spears lowering, round shields overlapping, ice crunching beneath their boots. “Kjolr, that’s mostly snow and ice,” Vidar said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “If half dig and scrape while the other half fight...” Wind keened through the silence. “You heard your Jarl,” Garilon shouted, “Get to work.” *** Vidar flinched backward fast enough so that the snow bear’s claws only tore burning furrows across his belly instead of spilling his guts on the snow. Another bear crowded in beside the first, jaws slavering venom, eager for an opening. Vidar surged forward, slammed his shoulder into the beast’s side, its musky, coarse hair making his flesh crawl. Its ribs broke and he shoved it away, limbs and clubbed tail flailing. A handful of arrows hammered into his back. He spun and saw six Jotunn sprinting toward him, spears lowered. A giant’s hammer struck his lower back and he arched backward—flung up and over the gray-white fur of the second snow bear, the one he’d stupidly put his back to when the arrows had hit him. As he tumbled through the air, a line of fire opened on his thigh and his blood flowed. He crashed into the frozen, rocky earth, blood hot and coppery in his mouth. The snow bear hissed, sucking in air. He knew that sound too well—she was about to spit venom. Get up, his fylgja screamed into his mind. She poured fresh strength into him, a waterfall filling a lake. Thanks to her, Vidar threw himself sideways into a diving roll that let him avoid most of the beast’s venom. Even so, some of the venom pattered against his tattered armor and sizzled through it to burn his skin. Coming up into a crouch, a Jotunn jabbed in the chest with his spear. The long wooden shaft flexed in the Jotunn’s hands, but the skymetal point didn’t puncture his skin. A second spear’s blade struck him below one eye, and his head snapped back from the impact but it, too, didn’t draw blood or even pain. And then the rest of the Jotunn were on him, spears jabbing and pulling back to thrust again. Each strike was stronger than the last as they braced themselves and, grunting, threw their weight into each hit. They fought as a unit, just as the Aesir themselves did. Despite their precision, the sharp, cold points dimpled his skin but didn’t cut him. But of course these Jotunn would have figured out that he was a baresark. They knew their steel couldn’t hurt him. The rhythm was meant to keep him distracted and pinned down so that the shaman could marshal more snow bears to send against him. He blocked a pair of thrusts with a forearm, Vidar looked into the bearded, brown faces of the Jotunn. Their eyes gleamed like gems while their breath frosted in the air, ice crusting on their dark beards. Young warriors, and fierce. Shorter than himself, and burly. To one side, Vidar glimpsed another four snow bears in the distance, shambling closer. The fifth, the one that had spat venom at him, circled to menace his flank. He heard the shouts of his own warband, followed by a triple burst from Vithi’s silvered horn, Vidar realized, as well, that he had let these beasts and spearmen do too good a job of separating him from his warband. But they’d also given him a little too long to catch his breath. Like a parched man dipping cupped hands into a river, he caught up more of his fylgja’s apparently unending strength and drank deeply. This time the striking spears moved like a lazy ripple in a tall sail. He shuffled in, trapped several of the spear shafts between his left arm and side, and knocked the others spears up and away. He set his feet, braced his right hand against the trapped spears and, with another throat-tearing shout, pivoted. Caught off guard—and how could they not be, he’d dodged and struck far too quickly—the warriors who spears he’d trapped slammed sideways into those beside them. Vidar darted into the gap in their line. He broke the neck of the Jotunn on his right with a single, hammering strike. He dropped the trapped spears and shuffled into a punch that broke another warrior’s ribs, flung him backward and knocked down the remaining Jotunn on his right. Now Vidar stood in a small open space. The Jotunn on his left fumbled to get their shields in front of them while ripping axes from their broad leather belts. The four additional snow bears were much closer now, their shambling, sideways run deceptively quick. And behind him, the venom-spitter hissed in a preparatory breath. Meanwhile, thirty yards distant, the bulk of the attacking Jotunn warband pressed hard against the turtled-clump of his own remaining warriors. If he didn’t help now, he’d get the rest of his warband killed. Vidar stooped, ripped free the axe strapped to the dead Jotunn’s belt, and sprinted toward his warriors. OUTRO Well, folks, that was CHAPTER 86 of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it. Not much happening myth-wise in this chapter. I think these short chapters probably work better in print. The idea was to provide a snippet of action in between longer, more expository chapters and so help build narrative tension. Next week, we’re back with Hodr. Until then, if you have the time and inclination, please rate and/or review the podcast — that helps boost the show’s visibility. As does sharing it. As always, I’m going to read from both the Bellows and Larrington translations of the Havamal, the sayings of the High One, Odin himself. Remember that this stanza, through 89, provide a sequence of dangers that Odin recommends avoiding. Bellows, Verse 86 Do not put your trust… In a flying arrow or falling waters, In ice new formed or the serpent's folds, In a bride's bed-speech or a broken sword, In the sport of bears or in sons of kings, Larrington, Verse 86 Do not put your trust in… a flying dart, a falling wave, ice of one night, a coiled serpent, the bed-talk of a woman, or a broken sword, the playing of a bear, or a king’s child, I added the phrase “do not put your trust” to help make the stanzas read a little better. Thanks for listening.