INTRO   Welcome to CHAPTER 15 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. Every five chapters, I recap the key plot points and provide some insight into the myths I’ve referenced in the book as well as some of the creative choices I’ve made along the way. In Chapter 11, we were with Loki as he argued , himself with himself, beside the Franangr. In Chapter 12, Hodr Odinsson had returned home and shared a meal with his significant other, Alara. Not that the Norse used that term, of course. In Chapter 13, Vidar and his war band were attacked by the Jotunn. Vidar used magic — seidr — taught to him by his father to aid the townsfolk. In Chapter 14, Odin and Baldr, along with the Einherjar, rode through the city of Gladsheim and headed out to aid Vidar. In this chapter we’re back with Vidar who seems to be headed toward a spirited conflict. Let’s do this. Chapter Fifteen Vidar Vidar sang in the shields, each pounding hoofbeat bringing his warband closer to the onrushing enemy. With a flick of his right wrist, he sent out a thread of magic like a fishing line, weaving it through his warband. Just as he had protected the townsfolk, so too would he protect his warriors. Ahead, three black longships, dark sails bellied out before the wind, hurtled toward them across the sea of tall grasses. Like embers, their prows burned a deep red where the ground swelled up meet them. The taste of ash lay heavy on the wind. Jotunn shamans had apparently learned a new way to use seidr. Behind him, his sixty spears pounded across the plains toward the ships in a tight wedge. Garilon was on his right; on his left, Canewin bore the fox-head banner of Vithi. Far behind them, the townsfolk fled alongside the long shadows cast by the setting sun. If his warband could stop the Jotunn, those townsfolk should arrive safely in Vithi within a pair of nights. And if he couldn’t stop the Jotunn? He blew out a long cone of white breath, emptying his lungs, and closed his eyes. Failure wasn’t an option. He sent his mind coursing inward until he saw his fylgja stretched out like one of the great-cats on Vithi’s golden plains. Her green eyes met his. They reminded him of a wide, deep river whose serene surface hid terrible currents. Which she did, of course. Odin chained disir to men and women to create the baresarks. So bound, a disir became a fylgja, and the spirit’s power made a baresark capable of tremendous feats. But we’ll have none of those feats just yet, my fylgja, he whispered in his mind. She licked her lips in the sleepy way of great-cats and leaped high toward him, green eyes gleaming. Startled, he invoked the binding rune that his father had tattooed around his right wrist. The distraction caused him to fumble the words of the witcharmor charm he was singing to protect his warband. A gap appeared in the armor. He panicked for a moment, exhaled hard, and then wasted his next cast on covering the hole he’d sung into the armor. His heart jumped a second time when he realized that while he’d focused on his weaving, he’d forgotten his fylgja. A hasty glance showed her lying down, eyes bright and watchful. The rune had stopped her upward surge, but what if she’d fought it? His father had said she would test him, would always test him. He must not stumble again. No mistakes. He could balance controlling her while fighting. He had to, even though it wasn’t something he’d ever done before. Nor was it something other baresarks did. Except for his father. But if he failed, then his warband failed. And that meant not only the death of every remaining person from Háls, but also a Jotunn warband was free to roam unopposed through Vithi. And if their shamans could spin up these black ships from smoke and ash, and chain the wind to fill its sails, then they could sail wherever they chose. He had to stop them. Now. The spindle in his hand rattled more loudly. Maybe a quarter of the thread remained. Time to tie it off; he’d need some for the fight itself. He withdrew his silver shears and clipped the thread, then tied it deftly. With that done, he exhaled long and hard and closed his eyes. To his mind’s eye, it looked as if every warrior and horse was clad in golden armor. Now he was ready to deal with the fylgja. He invoked the rune tattooed around his right bicep. He looked down at his fylgja and met her emerald eyes, taut haughtiness in every line of her body. Now, come. She leaped upward. He rocked in the saddle, feeling as if he were astride a longship bucking on stormy seas. He couldn’t help but grin even as he grasped Hrimfaxi’s saddle horn and steadied himself. Was this how his brother felt, Mjolnir clenched in an upraised fist and the storm’s power hammering through his body? Above the distant thundering of hooves, he heard Garilon call to him. “Jarl, we’re close.” He opened his eyes. The black ships were close enough that he could see the swirling ash and smoke trapped within the net of the shamans’ sorcery. He drew his sword and held it high. He let his fylgja rise higher, like water filling a barrel. Not yet, spirit, he whispered, but very soon. If he lost his grip on her, or himself, then he had no doubt she would take over. Odin had warned him repeatedly that accepting a disir as a spirit-follower meant never, ever letting her take control. If she did, she could do anything she wanted. She could rampage through Asgard or slip her bonds and flee back to the Ginnungagap for another to claim. But she was his—if he could keep from becoming hers. OUTRO Well, folks, that was CHAPTER 15 of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it. Vidar and his war band galloped toward onrushing longships spun of smoke and ash, while Vidar protected his warriors with magic and loosed the fetters upon his fylgja. If you’re interested in supporting the podcast, I have several requests: 1)   Please leave a review on whatever podcast app / platform you use. They really help. 2)   Please share the podcast. That also helps a ton. 3)   And finally, please consider supporting my work by buying my books or in some other way – likes, follows, Patreon, Locals, etc.   I’d also enjoy hearing from you. You can email me at mattbishopwrites@gmail.com    As always, I’m going to read from the Havamal, sayings of the High One, Odin himself. This verse definitely influenced how I thought about Vidar who is “the son of a king,” though I personally don’t like depicting Odin as a king in the conventional sense. If he’s a king … it’s of the dead and fallen heroes, of victory (sometimes), of liars and oath breakers, of seekers after knowledge and of those who wander. And as we know from Tolkien, not all who wander are lost. Bellows, https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/poe/poe04.htm   Bellows, Verse 15 The son of a king | shall be silent and wise, And bold in battle as well; Bravely and gladly | a man shall go, Till the day of his death is come.