Life Weaver (ASOIAF / WORM-OC SI)

[Hordac]

Chapter 1 - Prologue
Pain. Cold.
Those were the first sensations as he drew a heaving breath. The second thing was the realization—he couldn't move.

'What's happening? Why can't I move?' He thought in pain and confusion.

Then came the chaos as there were the jumbled memories of three different individuals bouncing in his head, scattering his thoughts like shards of glass. which were not helping him think straight. He started to feel panicked when the oldest personality's thoughts overrode every other thought. His commanding voice cut through the noise.

'No need to panic. Panic doesn't solve problems. Control yourself and find a way out. You have been through worse – remember what I went through the Second World War.'

The wizened, authoritative voice of the old US major Liam Smith's personality lifted the fog of pain and panic that filled his thoughts. As he started to search for a solution, the second and only female personality's thoughts provided the answer.

'Just focus inwards towards your body. Heal yourself. You know how. First, stop the pain by temporarily severing the nerves to the thalamus area of the brain,' the calm, clinical tone of a Amy Dallon insisted.
He obeyed, almost instinctively. Then something extraordinary happened.

As he did something amazingly new yet strangely familiar happened: He could see inside his body. From the smallest cell to the largest organs, every bit of his body was available for him to see in his mind's eye. He could see places where his body was severely damaged, the lack of pain giving him a surreal and detached feeling. Even more astonishingly amazing was the innate understanding of how to alter or fix the damage.

'Hmm, spinal cord severed. Multiple broken bones and internal injuries.' Amy Dallon's thoughts assessed the body clinically and professionally. 'Let's repair the damage. Start with the critical functions.'

The next few minutes were amazing and surreal as he felt his body repair itself by converting cells and tissues from non-critical areas of his body, transferring and replacing the damaged ones. At the end, the damaged spinal cord was repaired along with reconnecting the nerves that he had disconnected.

He jerked in shock as sensations returned and he started feeling everything. The sensation returned like a storm—cold, sharp, alive.

"Brrr. It's cold," he muttered shivering and started to look around. "Where am I?"

This time, it was the third personality that provided the answer, for it was this personality that the body originally belonged to. This person, called Eric Rider, a ranger of the Night's Watch who was out on patrol when their party was ambushed and slaughtered by the monstrous snow bear.

Thinking about his current predicament brought back the most recent and gruesome memories of being swatted by a giant bear, crashing into a tree, and dying shortly afterwards.

'At least the bear isn't around anymore,' he thought as he saw the carnage in front of him. His former comrades of the Night's Watch lay there butchered with some body parts missing and a gruesome bloody trail leading away in to the trees. 'Most likely the snow bear dragged one of my former companion's corpses to eat later.'

'Can we try to save my friends?' Erik thought hopefully, even though from Amy's memories he knew the answer.

'If they were alive, then perhaps it would have been possible' Amy responded, 'which doesn't seem likely. I mean my body... er, your body was dead just a few moments ago. I don't understand how we are alive or even inside your body, but I am certain everyone, including you, was dead for a few hours at least. How are we here at all? My last memory was dying in my body'

'We can look for answers when we are in a secure site. We should move. Other predators could come smelling all this blood,' thought Major Liam, and all the other personalities agreed. 'We should salvage what we can, then find our ride… I mean horse, and leave.'

Strangely, looting the bloodied corpses wasn't an action that any of the three personalities found appalling, as they were still in some form of shock and survival mode. In their search, they found half a dozen steel daggers, three steel swords, and two decent bows with around 60 unbroken arrows—enough arrows to fill three quivers. Everything else was far too damaged to be salvaged.

'It's not a lot, but we still can't carry all this around,' they pondered the problem briefly before Erik's thoughts provided the answer. 'Let's just warg with Luna, our horse, and make her come back to us.'

'If it's alive,' Amy Dallon thought. 'This warging isn't such a great superpower that Erik has.'

'Hey,' protested Erik. 'This world ain't scary like yours with people so powerful they could kill entire armies!'

'Quit squabbling. Positive thoughts, everyone. We can argue when we are safe,' the Old Major's voice encouraged.

'Hopefully, Erik's warged horse is alive and well. Even if it's injured, we can heal it using Amy's powers.'

'This is so weird. Three different people from three different worlds stuffed inside one body,' Erik thought.

'Indeed.' 'Yeah!' were the positive replies. 'The entity that sent us did say he would provide something to help us deal with this multiple personality problem,' Major Liam thought. 'We have to survive first. We'll deal with everything else later.'

Sitting down under a tree, they closed their eyes and concentrated on their connection to Luna the horse. They found her not too far away, terrified and in pain.

'She probably scratched herself running through the bushes in a panic,' Erik thought as he took control of the mare and started to bring it back.

Soon enough, the nervous horse had reached the clearing. After healing the horse and calming it down, they quickly stored their loot and climbed on.

'Where should we go?' Erik thought. 'My old posting at Eastwatch by the Sea is far to the south-east.'

'Can we just get away from here? Preferably in the opposite direction that the bear went. I don't want to deal with snow bears or hungry wolves,' Amy thought grumpily. 'Or whatever else lives in this world.'

'There's an abandoned hut nearby; it's got no roof, but the walls are sturdy enough. We'll head there,' Erik thought as he directed Luna the horse to move in that direction.

They rode in uneasy silence, three minds sharing one body.

'One boon to our condition is that I can control the horse while you two control our body,' Erik thought filling the uneasy silence. 'Usually, my body would sleep while I warged.'

'But we are still connected even though you are primarily controlling Luna while we are controlling this body.' Major Laim thought

'Hey, aren't you even a little bit bewildered by having two other personalities in your head?' Amy asked Erik. "You're surprisingly calm for a man sharing your head," Amy teased.

'I was at first,' he answered. 'But then I realized that if this… whatever this may be, hadn't happened, I'd probably be dead back there in that clearing with my carcass being torn apart by wolves. So, while I'm definitely not happy to share my—I mean, our body and mind—it beats the alternative. I'll take strange company over the grave. It's also a little bit like warging.'

The next couple of hours passed as they talked and got to know each other better.

It was near sunset that they reached the abandoned hut. It had no roof and the door was also missing, but the walls were indeed quite sturdy and tall enough to stop sneaky night attacks. They quickly tied the horse inside and set up a tent that was packed with the horse.

'Let's gather some wood before it gets dark. It gets cold at night even during summer. Fire also keeps predators away,' Erik thought.

An hour later, they were sitting in front of a merrily burning fire, eating their rations and finally feeling relaxed and safe enough to focus on their unique predicament.

"We need to do something about this multiple personality situation," the old Major thought to the other two, his mental tone weary but firm. "From my memories, we know that I was sent from a dimension where no superpowers exist, yet knowledge of both of your dimensions exists in the form of stories that I have read extensively with my grandchildren.

The being that sent me here told me that our different set of memories and personalities will be too much of a strain on a single mind. To remedy that, they said that they will provide us with something."

Saying that, his hand reached under his clothes and fished out a small, cylindrical steel locket.

'How did that get there? I don't remember having it!' Erik thought worriedly.

'And we definitely didn't loot it off the bodies,' Amy thought curiously.

'I believe it is a container. Let's open it and find out what remedy we have been provided,' the Major thought as he unscrewed the top off. They could see that inside it was a single transparent pill and a rolled-up piece of paper. The paper had information written in English which Erik couldn't read but the other two could.

NZT is a nootropic drug that enhances human memory and intelligence while acting as a nearly perfect antidepressant and anxiolytic. It unlocks 100% of the brain, referencing the oft-repeated myth that only "10%" of our brains are normally used. It increases intelligence to superhuman levels and results in perfect recall for the extent of its activity.

'I remember this,' Amy thought. 'It's from a movie I watched, imported from the Earth Aleph dimension. This pill could solve our problem.'

You think it's safe? Erik asked doubtfully.

'Indeed. You don't sound so sure,' The Old Major stated.

'Well… From what I remember, the pill made a brain work to its fullest potential, essentially granting them Thinker-type powers. Theoretically, it should help us in not only solving this multiple personalities problem in a single brain but also in surviving this place.'

'What if we don't take it?' Erik thought, wary of medicines gifted by strange, powerful beings.

'That's also not an option,' Amy replied. 'Our shared brain is already under a lot of emotional strain. If we don't resolve this problem soon, we could damage our brain. The human brain is simply not designed for this. If we don't fix this, it'll tear itself apart I say we take it.'

'Agreed,' The Old Major thought. 'I may not have seen that movie, nor do I have the medical knowledge that Amy has, but I believe that the entity that sent us here would not go through all this effort to put us here and not provide us with a viable solution.'

'That makes sense,' Erik thought, changing his opinion of the pill. 'The God that did all this must have a purpose for us.'

'He isn't a god, Erik,' Amy responded in exasperation. 'Just an extremely powerful interdimensional being with power beyond our ability to comprehend.'

'Yes,' Erik thought. 'Exactly as you say. A godly being. We must trust in their will and take this pill.'

The Old Major interrupted Amy's heated response. 'So we all agree to take the pill? Regardless of our beliefs or reasoning?'

'Aye.' 'Yes.' 'Ok.'

They took the transparent pill and swallowed it.

Nothing happened.

They waited.

Still nothing happened.

'The being that sent you… Is he into practical jokes?' Amy thought. 'Because nothing's happening.'

'I wouldn't put it past him,' Major sighed. 'The stories sometimes depict them as bored pranksters with too much time and power in their hands.'

Amy chuckled. Wouldn't surprise me. Beings with too much power tend to be either mischievous or worse.

'Blasphemy', Erik muttered

'We shouldn't be talking about gods like that,' Erik thought worriedly. 'What if he's hearing us think badly about him?'

'Oh, he's not a god…'

Then it happened. It felt like the world shifted.

The scales fell from my eyes. Everything was the same, yet so much more. It felt as if I was blind, but now I see the world in its entirety.

Our brain is a miracle, but it's not efficient. There is a maze inside everyone's head. A labyrinth of missed connections and untapped potential. But now suddenly, we had access to every single brain cell.

Major, Erik, and Amy Dallon were extremely different people from different worlds with different ideologies and experiences. Being stuffed into a single body was far from ideal. As such, they were on the verge of becoming split personalities. But now they were becoming one. It felt as if they were living all their lives all over again simultaneously.

They understood each other's thoughts and lived as though they had lived it.

The first among the three was Erik Rider, a man of the Night's Watch. Born to wildlings beyond the Wall, Erik became an orphan at the tender age of six years. Later on, he was rescued by men of the Night's Watch and taken in by them. There he was taught all he needed to know about fighting and surviving in the harsh landscape. The maester taught him to read and write, so he read the books in the library. The Night's Watch was like his family, but he kept one secret from them. The secret was that he was a warg, because he knew that the folk south of the Wall were too superstitious of magical powers like warging.

The second and only female of the three was Amy Dallon, a.k.a. the healing hero Panacea of the Worm multiverse dimension. Born to a villain who was imprisoned, she was raised by the very superhero group that had imprisoned her father. Amy was a parahuman with the ability to manipulate all forms of living matter in any way she desired. She used this power to heal only, fearing that if the true extent of her powers were ever revealed, she would be imprisoned as bio-tinkers had a very bad reputation in her world. Initially, she feared altering brains, but after her manipulation of her sister's brain and the subsequent stint in the Birdcage prison gave her ample opportunity to master tinkering with brains and ultimately altering a person's thoughts. She also learned to manipulate her body. She was in her early 30s when a copy of her memories, sans her ability, were dumped into Erik's almost dead body.

The final and most important of the three was Major Liam Smith. Born in a normal world with no powers or magic at the time of the First World War, he himself fought in the Second World War as a British engineer and sapper.
His task as an engineer was to support both the army's combat and its supply elements. Close to the front, he dug trenches and tunnels, strung wire, or bridged shell holes, while facing the same dangers as regular infantry. Further back, he was constantly building and rebuilding roads and railways and establishing lines of communication. From mine warfare to forestry and topography, he and his fellow engineers from the engineering corps relied on all kinds of knowledge and tricks to outclass the enemy in the field. They didn't see much active combat, but their lives were almost always in the same amount of danger from both the enemy and the dangerous stuff they had to do.
After the first war, he returned to civilian life. He got a master's degree in mechanical engineering and held several high-position jobs, during which he researched and acquired several small patents for his minor inventions. For the last ten years, he taught engineering as a professor before retiring. His favorite pastime was reading stories with his grandchildren and participating in historical reenactments and building medieval and renaissance-era working models. In the end, at the ripe old age of 91, a stroke left him completely paralyzed. After living such an active life, being trapped in his own body was hell.

So when he was offered a chance to live again in a fantasy universe that he had read about, he accepted quickly.
Thus, the memories and personalities of the three became one.

Everything was sharper—each sound, each scent, every flicker of the fire seemed to hold infinite detail. Thoughts aligned like stars, every synapse alive and luminous. The maze of their shared consciousness untangled.

'I feel as if I have lived over a hundred years,' he thought as his newly merged mind started combining the vast knowledge of all three lives and rapidly churning out ideas. He was Erik Rider but he was also Major Liam and Amy Dallon. He was all of them and he was one. 'Add all their lives and I probably have lived over a century and a half'

The NZT pill delivered much more than what was promised.

He remembered it all: the frozen North, the wards of Brockton Bay, the trenches of Normandy. It was as if he had lived a hundred years in a heartbeat.

'The synergy that my healing powers have with this pill is amazing,' He thought in awe. 'The pill boosts mental faculties to use the bio-tinker's powers in new ways, including taking care of the mental side effects easily since it's all biological. Combine these with warging and controlling animals that I will enhance to supernatural levels, and we have a recipe for guaranteed success. A perfect union'

His thoughts shifted towards his current predicament and the golden opportunities he could imagine.

'I remember this feeling. The feeling that the world is mine for the taking. I just have to decide what to do with it,' he thought as he absentmindedly gazed into the campfire.

And then he began to form an idea. Suddenly, he knew exactly what he needed to do. It wasn't just surviving here. It wasn't just building a city north of the Wall, traveling this wonderful new world, and conquering it with his powerful, enhanced army.

It was all of it and so much more.

'But it would take resources to get there,' he thought as he gazed around as his supercharged mind provided several ideas on how exactly he could acquire some resources immediately.

'Let's start with something small that I can do right now.'

Lighting up a fire torch, he started by laying down small traps and snares to catch small animals in the surrounding areas.

He quickly found areas that animals frequented, and his enhanced mind provided all sorts of ideas for traps and snares to catch them.

'It's too dark to do anything else,' he thought sadly as he returned to his tent to get ready to go to sleep 'My body is too tired from healing and being awake for so long. This NTZ pill's effect will be gone by the time I wake up'

He examined the changes to his brain that NZT pill had done

'Amazing! It's like looking at an entirely new brain. The original neural pathways are still there but now there are so many more and they are working in unique ways. Hopefully, I should be able to recreate this enhancement once the NZT wears off''

But sleep eluded him because his mind wouldn't stop churning out ideas for anything and everything. So busy was he thinking up new plans, he didn't notice when he fell asleep.

Author's Note:
If you want to support my writing and get exclusive pre-release ACCESS TO THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS of the story, consider becoming a Patron of this work.
You also get access to the pictures, information sources, music, and videos that I consulted with or that inspired me during the writing process
To Become a Patron Visit: pat reon dot com /Hordac Fics

 

[Hordac]

Chapter 2

He woke to the sounds of birds and distant animal calls. His thoughts were sluggish. His body felt tired, weak, thirsty, and he had a nasty headache pounding in his head. Crawling out of his tent, he got up which felt him a bit dizzy. The experience was made worse by the apparent sensitivity to light that was stabbing at his eyes and even the sweet chirping birds sounded too loud. He was having trouble concentrating and thinking clearly.

'Did I drink too much last night?' he thought groggily.

Then it all came back - The reincarnation, the NZT pill. The merging of three different people into one

'My brain is back to normal' he realized 'Thank the old gods that I at least got to keep the merging'

'Eat and drink first,' He muttered as he shuffled towards his food rations and water skin 'everything else later'

After eating some beef jerky with stale bread and drinking some water he started feeling a bit better. He thought about all the brilliant plans that he had come up with and the modern twenty first century innovations he was sure he could recreate. Now they all felt impossible!

'I wish I had some parchment, ink and quill last night' he thought morosely then another idea sparked 'Wait, I don't need that when I can simply replicate the effects of my enhanced brain with my bio tinkering powers'

He concentrated on his brain and envisioned it. Next, he recalled all the biological changes it went through when he took the NZT pill and used his power to slowly change his brain back how it was last night,

'Hope it get back to its wonderful enhanced super genius state' he thought concentrating.

Instantly the world snapped into focus, everything felt more vibrant and every little bit of thing was bombarding him with tidbits of information. Every color was sharper, every sound was clearer, every scent layered with nuance. Information poured into his mind like a flood. He laughed joyfully, startling the horse a little.

"I'm back. Luna" he said out loud grinning like a lunatic as he approached the horse and patted her to calm her down "I just made myself a super genius. Permanently."

The horse snorted at being startled and resume eating.

After spending a couple of minutes simply enjoying his enhanced brain and subsequent heightened awareness while absently patting the horse and using biokinter powers to explore the intricacies of horse physiology, his thoughts turned to his current predicament and what he had planned to do.

"OK. girl" He said to the horse" I'm going to see if I caught something in the traps."

Grabbing his weapon belt, he left his makeshift camp and started to walk towards the traps he had laid last night.

"Gotta catch 'em all" He hummed the Pokémon theme as he imagined what animals he could find and make them his companions.

'I hope i get a shadow cat' he thought 'It would be the best choice for my circumstances'

The first few traps were empty. Moving further away he found a little marmot.

His encyclopedic memory instantly provided him information on the animal

'A burrowing and hibernating animal. It's not very useful. Still useful as food' he thought as he grabbed the animal and simply switched off its brain, leaving its body in a vegetative state ' it will keep it alive longer and give me fresh game meat. I Could also use its living flesh for bio tinkering.'

An idea struck him.

'O wonder…If I can warg into an animal while also altering their brain to be accepting of the warging, I could instantly tame whichever animal I want. No resistance and no wasting time taming and earning its trust'

In the next traps he found a rabbit and a ptarmigan bird, both were also rendered brain dead. He tied all the animals to a rope to carry them and moved on.

The next traps were also empty and a few were broken out by stronger animals.

It was when he was starting to feel a little disappointed that he came upon his next trap and caught sight of an arctic fox trapped within and his disappointment vanished.

"Hello there" he said as he carefully got closer to the growling animal and crouched beside it "well aren't you a handsome little fox. You will do nicely"

He lunged at the growling fox and grabbed it by the scruff of its neck for which he got scratched deeply but he easily healed himself with a thought

"Let's see if this crazy idea works, "he said to the fox as he carefully modified its brain chemistry to stop being scared of him and be obedient to him so that when he tried to warg with the animal, it would happen successfully. Seeing the fox calm down he looked deeply into its eyes and started warging with it.

Feeling a link established with the fox he pushed through and found out that his consciousness slipped into the fox's brain rather smoothly. Turning the fox's head towards his human body, he saw himself looking back at his human body with milky white eyes. He blinked through two sets of eyes — human and animal — at once.

His body stood there, eyes milky white, while he looked back from the fox's perspective.He could feel and control both bodies simultaneously and effortlessly

'Interesting' he mumbled

Unlike before when Erik had first warged with the horse and had lost control of his human body, this time he had control of both bodies. He let go of his fox and watched as he effortlessly controlled the fox's body. He got up and started walking around to test if he still had full control of his human body which as it turned out he did,

'It seems the brain enhancement allows me greater processing power to control both bodies and deal with multiple sensory input easily.' He thought as he took out his sword and took a few practice swings at an imaginary enemy all the while making the fox run around and sniff everything it found interesting.

'Another difference is that there is no bleed over of emotions from the fox. I can still sense what it's thinking but its thoughts and emotions have no effect on me' he concluded 'Now let's add another element to this experiment by controlling my horse as well'

Mentally reaching out to the link he had with his horse, he took control of her body easily. Ignoring her surprise, he looked through her eyes at his makeshift camp.

"Excellent! I can control multiple animals without any loss of function to my body and there is no apparent decrease in efficiency while doing so" He exclaimed "Let's keep the links running and see how long i can keep it going"

Putting his sword back into his scabbard, he sent the fox to some traps while he walked to inspect the last few ones.

After finding some lemmings and some small red tufted birds that he previously didn't know the name of but his enhanced mind dug it out of a fleeting memory

'Redpolls' he thought amazed with his enhanced brains to recall knowledge 'not very useful for warging. I'll keep it feed the fox'

Speaking of the fox it yipped excitedly as he himself was quite happy with the last find.

Walking to where the fox was looking, he saw that his trap had ensnared a raven.

"Oh, you will do nicely," he remarked as he grabbed the struggling raven with some difficulty earning a few bleeding fingers in the process. He then repeated the process of mind alteration and warging.

Similar to the previous experience he saw and felt everything from the bird's point of view. It was also in pain as the trap had fractured its left wing. He quickly healed it and threw it in the air.

Now he was seeing the world from the perspective of three different animals and himself and one of them was even flying!

Flying was exhilarating — the wind under his wings, the vast forest spreading below, every movement effortless.

'Amazing' He thought as he saw and felt the world for the raven's perspective 'It should feel weird but somehow flying feels completely natural. Must be the raven's instincts'

He felt the wind whipping through his feathers and the forest spreading out below him. He enjoyed the feeling of freedom that flying provided, a sense of being untethered from the worries of the world below

'As long as it was brief, anyway'. He thought as he forced himself to focus back to his current task 'Don't want to lose myself to the almost addictive freedom and sensation'

'I need another warg to compare my abilities with 'he thought remembering lore, statistics, and numbers with machine precision — but dismissed the thought with a sigh.

'But what are my chances of running into another warg? How many wargs are there north of the wall? In the books Bloodraven mentioned that only one man in a thousand is born a skin changer and only one skin changer in a thousand can be a greenseer. During the War of the Five Kings, Mance Rayder led a large force of Free Folk who attempted to break through the Wall defended by The Night's Watch. It was a force of over 100,000 people, from hundreds of tribes beyond the Wall.' he recalled perfectly from a conversation he had overheard in passing 'That means there can be only a few hundred alive at this time. So the chances of meeting them in this vast tundra with such low statistics' are highly unlikely' he thought sadly 'Ah well! I will keep an eye out. Who know? Maybe I'll get lucky. Either way it's not the priority right now'

Finished with the traps, he returned to his camp with his new companions. Sitting down in his camp bed he looked at the raven, fox and Luna, the horse.

'Now that the warging abilities have been tested, let's try some bio-tinkering on my companions' he mused as he called the fox and had it lie down in front of him. Placing one hand on it and the other on the brain-dead animals, he concentrated on the fox's body.

'Hm. Adult Male. Young. Excellent senses, not messing with that. Musculature similar to dogs with difference in pectoral and forelimb muscles resulting in better digging, climbing and quick maneuvering.' He thought as his powers allowed him to see the its whole body in a sort of 3d holographic way in his mind 'body designed for ambush hunting smaller prey and not designed for combat. Let's add some denser muscles for more strength' he concentrated and used the bio mass of the brain-dead animals and converted completely to fox muscles down to the last DNA strand' Next increase lung and heart capacity to support more muscles. Increase metabolism for providing extra energy at the cost of eating more. Now for bones, strengthen them by weaving carbon fiber strands in and around the bones. More carbon fiber mesh under the skin making it harder to pierce aaand……. Done. Now let's test these changer' he thought as he ordered he fox to move around him while still keeping his hand on it.

The Fox didn't look much different from the outside but inside was another story. It was a little bit stronger, tougher and faster.

Let's send them out for some hunting and scouting' he thought he sent the raven to circle around the camp a bit to see if anything interesting or potentially dangerous was around.

After a few moments the raven spotted a few more rodents so he sent both the fox and the raven after them to grab their meal. Their coordinated effort led to two successful catches that they ate ravenously.

He himself felt didn't feel tired from using his bio tinker powers so he started bio tinkering with the left-over braindead animal mass.

'It's not enough mass to change myself or Luna' He hummed as he turned their leftovers into a reddish slurry type material 'maybe a weapon? '

His enhanced brain started to rapidly search through all the combined memories and knowledge for a biological weapon ending up choosing stink pellets.

He started making pellets made from some rubbery skin that popped on impact. Inside the pellet he molded the bio slurry into skunk spray, the nastiest smelling liquid he had knowledge of.

He started to break camp and pack everything while his thoughts were on the next step of his plans.

'With these animals and their much sharper senses I can scout ahead' he thought 'This will help me avoid dangers and also look for future opportunities be it humans or more interesting animals to warg and add to my team. I wonder how many animals I can warg with? The stories normally had a single animal while the character of Waramyr six skin could do six.' he thought as he loaded his packed stuff onto Luna 'so theoretically I should be able to control six at least'

'Alright let's go and make some new friends' he thought as he summoned the animals to scout his surroundings all the while he concentrated on his plans.

Author's Note:

If you want to support my writing and get exclusive pre-release ACCESS TO THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS of the story, consider becoming a Patron of this work.

You also get access to the pictures, information sources, music, and videos that I consulted with or that inspired me during the writing process

To Become a Patron Visit: pat reon dot com /Hordac Fics

 

[Hordac]

Chapter 3

The next day they started travelling towards the nearest settlement that Erik knew of.

As his animal companions scouted his surrounding his mind wandered.

'I know from Eric Rider's memories that it's somewhere around 200 BC or Before conquest of the Targaryens because to all the Riverland rebels that the Durandon Storm king keeps sending to the Wall as he crushes the rebellions in the occupied Riverlands. That means the Targaryens have not yet migrated to Dragonstone yet and it's roughly a hundred years before the doom of Valyria' he thought ss Littlefinger's words drifted up unbidden: chaos is a ladder. The dates, names and rebellions snapped into place beneath his enhanced mind, a lattice of possibilities stretching ahead.

'So many opportunities' he thought 'The doom , the riverlands being crushed by Stormlands and the Iron Isles and lastly the Targaryens'

For a fleeting moment he thought about chaos theory and the butterfly effect of his meddling with the timeline.

Then he dismissed it as his existence already altered the future; pretending otherwise was cowardice.

'I can't simply vanish into hermitage hoping not to alter the timeline. Instead, I will use my foreknowledge to the utmost extent possible and simply become strong enough to deal with the consequences myself' he thought nodding to himself as he came to a conclusion.

Hours passed as they traveled down the road, his mind churning up ideas while his animals scouted. It was almost noon when his raven spotted something in a clearing not too far away.

Focusing on the raven's senses he saw a young woman with a crude spear, sanding protectively before two children. A pack of wolves surrounded them growling and circling. There lay a dead man nearby, with his throat ripped out and a few of the wolves were feasting on the fresh corpse.

'I have to save them' he though sharply

He mentally ordered the fox to jump onto the saddle and mentally ordered his horse to run as fast as possible while he also used the raven's sharp senses to count the wolves

'At least it's a small pack of 8 wolves only. Manageable' he thought as his brilliant mind quickly came up with multiple strategies before settling on one. 'I will try shooting arrows at them, hopefully killing a few and scaring the rest away. If that doesn't work, I'll have to take a risk of attempting to tame the alpha wolf and see if that works'

Stopping some distance from the wolves he took out his bow and notched an arrow towards a wolf. Commanding his horse mentally to stand firm, he mentally calculated the arrows trajectory precisely and let loose three arrows in quick succession.

The first arrow followed its predicted path and pierced one of the wolves in the stomach leaving it howling and thrashing on the ground. The second arrow also struck true in another wolf's shoulder putting another wolf down. The last arrow missed as the targeted wolf had moved erratically in alarm due to its pack mates howling.

'Distract and harass them' he commanded his fox and the raven as he notched another arrow and fired at a wolf. It missed its target by an inch as the wolf had started to turn towards him.

His fox jumped out of the saddle and started running towards them all the while making noises, Midway the fox bolted towards some nearby bushes successfully baiting two wolves to follow it while the raven flew closer to dive and distract the wolves.

By now the four remaining wolves had started running towards him sensing him to be the major threat.

'They will attempt to surround me If I give them the chance' he thought

He commanded his horse to start running around the edge of the clearing at full gallop as he aimed at the closest wolf but waited for the raven to dive and successfully distract it before shooting it in the neck, surprising himself.

'It feels so amazing! Instant horse archer mastery! I love my powers! Take that Mongols and Dothraki's! "He thought excitedly. "This level of efficient multi-tasking is such a cheat!"

He controlled the raven to harass them while the fox successfully baited two of the wolves to follow it away from them. While they were distracting the wolves, he along with his horse were working in perfect symphony as he shot near accurate shots.

'That's five left' he thought as he waited between the horse's gallops and shot another arrow landing a hit on a wolf's hind leg leaving it howling and thrashing on the ground, howling in agony and biting at the arrow

'Th's Four down' he thought happily as his fox skillfully avoided a wolf's jaws 'only four left now'

Seeing as his fox was about to be cornered, he mentally commanded the fox to lead his pursuers towards him as he tried shooting one of the two chasing him but only nicked it.

Commanding his horse to charge, he quickly replaced his bow with a spear and used it to skewer a wolf. Unfortunately, the spear got stuck in its target so he dropped it and took out his sword.

'Only three left' He thought as he commanded his horse to run for the biggest wolf guesstimating it to be the alpha 'Now's my chance to tame the alpha'

Seeing as the wolves were also running towards him, he got ready and at the right moment ordered his horse to veer left while he leaped out of the saddle and while he was midair swung his sword's flat side like a baseball bat and hit the alpha wolf square in the face knocking him down and stunning him.

Meanwhile he ordered Luna, his horse to defend him while the raven and the fox helped keep the other wolves at bay.

Quickly scrambling towards the stunned alpha, he used his sword to pin him down and touched it and started dominating it via his potent combination of warging and manipulating his brain chemistry simultaneously. The alpha wolf stunned and pinned down didn't stand a chance and as soon it was his to control, he quickly had it stop and other wolves. The alpha ran towards his remaining pack and communicated that that they were part of the pack. The wolves although confused obeyed the alpha none the less for now

"Come let's heal you pack mates" he ordered the alpha wolf who was clearly worried for them "You calm them down and I'll heal them"

'I'll also make them more docile towards me and my companions' he thought 'I don't want to warg with so many wolves'

Running from one injured wolf to the other, he quickly healed them and retrieved his arrows while the alpha growled menacingly at them and together they succeeded in healing them all although the one he pierced with his spear would need rest and would take longer to heal so he simply put it to sleep. He didn't warg/dominate any of them except the alpha as he feared he might have an upper limit to his warging but he did used his healing powers to manipulate their brains enough that they would consider him part of the pack and second only to the alpha wolf. In addition, he also had the alpha convince the others not to harm them.

'Let this one sleep here and recover. Take your pack out to hunt again' He mentally commanded his alpha wolf 'I'll lead you to prey animals with the help of my raven. Serve me well and I'll keep you well fed and relatively safe'

The alpha stared at him conveying feelings of loyalty, gratitude and obedience before he barked and yipped at his pack to follow him. The six wolves silently followed their eyes and body language conveying their confusion at the whole situation.

"Now to deal with the humans I just saved" he muttered as he turned towards the wildling woman and her two children. Surprisingly they had not moved and were staring at him in shock and awe.

'I must have looked like a superhero to them. Blitzing in and saving them single handedly' he thought amusedly

Looking at them properly he saw they were in bad shape. The two malnourished boys with slightly sunken cheeks were aged around nine or ten years and that they resembled the woman greatly. Surprisingly their hands were tied to a rope that led to the dead man. The thin woman while young looked older and haggard clearly indicating she had been through a lot. There were also bruises on her face that were clearly made by human fists.

'Children were captive of dead guy. Woman abused but not captive. Children are either sons or brothers to the woman.' He thought as he pieced together the clues 'Children used as leverage to control the woman. All three were prisoners of dead guy. Not fed properly for over a week at least. Captives for that long'

"Hello there" he addressed them in the old tongue that he knew from Erik's childhood memories

"Do any of you need healing? As you saw earlier, I can mend wounds" he asked politely not stepping closer.

He kept his distance. When they didn't respond - still staring at him as though at a ghost — he smiled softly and waited.

Seeing they were not coming out of their shocked state on their own, he decided to act normally and summoned Luna close to him. He started unpacking to set up camp "I will set up camp and get some food ready. You all look like you could use a hearty meal or two' He added calmly hoping the offer of food would bring them out of their shock and be less wary of him.

As expected, the mention of food brought them out of their shock with the children's eyes lit up at the mention of food while the woman's expression wavered between hunger and suspicion.

"Here's my dagger" He said as he tossed took out one of the daggers and tossed it close to her "Why don't you cut those ropes and free the kids and help me with the cooking and find some firewood" he said soothingly trying to soothe her fears by arming her and giving her an opportunity to run away as well all the while enticing her with food and his non-threatening posture and words.

'I know arming her might seem dangerous, but it's the fastest way to earn trust — or at least to show that they shouldn't be afraid' he thought to himself

The woman's eyes locked on to the dagger. She hesitatingly stepped forward while keeping a wary eye on me looking very much like a terrified but hungry deer. She grabbed the dagger tightly and walked backwards towards the kids still keeping an eye on him

Then Erik remembered the Guest Right — a sacred custom of this world. He took out a piece of bread and a pinch of salt, placing them on his wooden plate to present to the woman.

"Bread and salt" he said softly gesturing towards the food in his hands as he slowly yet casually walked towards them "Come eat. I swear by the old gods that I mean you no harm"

The woman's wary eyes darted between the bread, the salt, and Erik's calm face. For a moment, the only sounds were the whisper of the wind and the crackle of the dying campfire. Then, slowly, she took a cautious step forward, dagger clutched firmly.

"I am Gertrude," she said finally, her voice hoarse and cracking. "And these are my sons… Sven and Dan."

Her hands trembled slightly as she took the bread and salt. She broke off a small piece, tasted it, then fed a bit to each boy. Only when all three had eaten did she allow her shoulders to ease, if only slightly.

Erik smiled faintly. "It's an honor to meet you, Gertrude, Sven and Dan. You're safe now."

She looked at him—still wary, but curiosity had begun to overcome fear. "Safe," she repeated softly, glancing toward the treeline where the wolves had disappeared. "You tamed them. No warg can tame so many beasts."

"I'm not quite a normal man," Erik said with a small shrug. "Just someone trying to do some good."

Sven tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Mama, he made the wolves listen. Like papa."

"Yes, I did" Erik admitted with a grin. "Now, how about we get a fire going and something warm to eat?"

With cautious cooperation, Gertrude and her sons began gathering dry wood. Erik prepared a small pot and some dried meat and herbs from his pack. The scent soon filled the clearing, mingling with the earthy air of the forest. Bit by bit, tension drained from the small family's faces, replaced by exhaustion and the faintest spark of comfort.

When the stew was simmering, Erik slowly crouched near Gertrude again. "You're hurt," he said quietly. "Let me help before those bruises turn worse."

She stiffened and gripped the dagger tigther, but then — remembering the way he had mended the wolves after saving her and the children — she nodded hesitantly.

Erik reached out, his hand hovering near her temple. "You'll feel warmth. Nothing more."

Beneath his hand, the ugly purple bruises on her face lightened, then vanished entirely. Her breath caught. "It doesn't hurt anymore…" she whispered in disbelief.

Sven's wide eyes glimmered. "Can you fix Dan's leg too? He fell when we ran."

"Of course."

Erik placed his hand on the boy's thin shin. The swelling faded, leaving only smooth, unbroken skin. Dan giggled in wonder and swung his leg in joy.

"Better?" Erik asked with a smile.

Dan nodded vigorously. "It feels like… summer inside my leg!"

Gertrude stared at him for a long time, the mix of shock, gratitude, and disbelief clear in her eyes. Finally, she spoke in a small voice. "Why would you help us? You owe us nothing."

Erik looked at her quietly for a moment before answering. "Because I can. And because no one else could have. There is a famous saying that the only thing necessary for the triump of evil is for good men to do nothing"

That simple honesty seemed to reach her. She felt he was being honest. The hardness in her expression softened, and she lowered her gaze. "Then… thank you, Erik. From all of us."

He inclined his head slightly. "You're welcome."

They ate together as twilight deepened, the fire painting their faces in gold and amber. The boys laughed weakly for the first time in what felt like forever. Gertrude smiled faintly, though her eyes still held the haunted look of someone who had suffered too much for too long.

Erik leaned back, watching them quietly, a sense of quiet satisfaction blooming within him.
Maybe this is what I'm meant to do, he thought. Not just survive—but heal, rebuild, protect. So, this is what being a hero feels like, I like it. I shall be pragmatic but I'll also help whenever I can. Afterall good deeds don't always go unrewarded.

For the first time since his strange rebirth, the world didn't feel entirely hostile.

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[Hordac]

Ch4

Gertrude POV

Gertrude watched as her sons Dan and Sven took aim with their slingshots, magically crafted from sinew and bone. Their faces were etched with intense concentration, eyes narrowing as they focused and tried to hit the target under the tutelage and watchful eyes of their savior, Erik the healer.

'But he's not just a healer' she thought glancing at the bone white slingshot – an organic weapon that seemed almost alive in his hands 'Flesh weaver would be a more fitting name'

She remembered how Erik had fashioned these the two slingshots from the flesh and bones of the auroch – a massive temperamental beast that he had found and slain with the help of his animal companions. Somehow, using what she could only describe as some kind of flesh magic, he had simply plucked the sinew out from the bull's flesh as easily as one would pull a stray hair out of a soup. Then with a few simple movements, he had molded its bones as simply as one makes dough and easily reshaped them to form the handles of the weapons. Thus in a few moments he had crafted two magnificent slingshots for his brothers to play with.

He had also crafted a bone white spear for her that he had then infused with something black he called carbon fiber and claimed it be almost as strong as steel. She had yet to test his claim but she believed him given his honestly and crazy magical powers

Her thoughts drifted back to her sons practicing with their strange new toys, their pellets missing the target by a wide margin. She chuckled softly. 'At least they're having fun,' she mused, though her smile was tinged with amusement and fondness. 'Even if the wizard is arming them with magic stink pellets.'

Not only was the slingshot made from fleshy magic but its ammunition was also a unique thing.

The pellets were an oddity - made from some rubbery material that popped on impact were filled with the nastiest smelling liquid she had even smelt. Worse was that when one got some of that smelly liquid on them, it clung to anything it touched for days no matter how much you washed and scrubbed it He had called it skunk spray.

He had demonstrated its effectiveness when one the wolves of his pack was being unruly and tried to bite her younger son. A single pellet and the poor beast fell thrashing where it stood vigorously scratching and its nose and rubbing it on every surface around to no avail. Even his pack avoided him like the plague for the next few days.

'Combine the slingshot with the skunk pellet and you have an effective weapon to stop enemies in their tracks' she thought as her sons missed the target again ' provided my sons can aim it right'

They had made camp as dusk fell. She had cooked the fresh meat , the air tinged with the scent of cooked meat—Erik's beasts had brought them fresh kills. Gertrude's mind drifted to the impending journey home.

'Tomorrow we'll reach our village' she thought as she smelt the ocean breeze in the air as they were very close to the coast where her fishing village was located.

As she ate her thoughts inadvertently wandered to her family.

' They'd be worried sick ' she thought worriedly 'Some of them are probably out there even now looking for us. Henrik's the best tracker and warg in the village, maybe he found the trail I was leaving' she thought in concern as there was no sgin of him 'but then why hasn't he found me yet.'

She worried for Henrik, her husband as she ate absentmindedly.

Erik left her sons to their practice and came over the campfire. He sat down and started eating from the mound of food that was on his wooden plate. He always ate as much as half a dozen people would, devouring food with a voracious appetite. It was amazing seeing him gobble down food in one go that would have fed her whole family for a day or two. She had noticed he was a little bulkier than before as well.

"How can ye eat so much?" she asked curious. They had been travelling together for over a week and this was the first time she had felt comfortable enough to talk to Erik casually "do ye have an extra stomach or two in there?'

Erik paused for a moment, the look of surprise on his face at hearing her start a conversation. The surprised looked quickly turned to one of amusement at her question

"After all you've seen me do, that's the thing you ask?" Erik asked chuckling

She pouted at him laughing at her.

"To answer your question, Actually I only have a single normal stomach. I simply use my powers to quickly absorb the food and drawing its energy to strengthen my body making it tougher and bulkier. A tougher body with greater energy reserves means I have extra energy to mold flesh and fight more effectively"

Gertrude nodded thoughtfully. He did have a tall and very muscular body. She blushed a little, unwilling recalling the sight of him going for a swim, naked in the freezing waters of a river yesterday.

"So, it's not a power gifted by the old gods?" She asked focusing on the conversation "Is that why you need so much food?"

"No. Definitely not the Old gods" Erik replied between eating his food "Have you ever experience them doing something this dramatic?"

"No" she said shaking her head negatively "But who else could it be? No other gods are of nature and healing"

"Maybe" he replied.

"So How'd you become this …. flesh weaver?" she asked "If not the gods, when how…..."

"Flesh weaver?" he repeated the name humming thoughtfully "It's a fair description of my abilities but I would prefer Life weaver as my abilities include plants and flesh both" He pondered then nodded to himself "Life weaver it is. I like it. Thank you for finding an appropriate name for my abilities. As for your other question … It was a divine being that gifted these powers to me. So, it was a god possibly one of the old gods"

"Oh" Gertrude replied not sure what to say to that "Well it doesn't matter whoever gave them to you so long as you use it for good. Like when you saved us from the wolves. Thank ye for that"

"Will you stop thanking me already? You have thanked me daily! It is more than enough.It was the right thing to do" he shrugged before change the topic of conversation "So …tell me about your village?"

And so, she told him everything about her wonderful little village and all the people that lived there including her family, their traditions and the place she called home.

Later, they all retreated into their separate tents. Gertrude lay in her bedroll beside her children, feeling a mixture of safety and longing. The beasts patrolled the perimeter, keeping watch, yet her mind drifted to her family—what dangers might be chasing after them, what fate awaited her.

Early next morning as they sat by the fire and ate breakfast, she broached a topic that was on her mind.

"Erik" she asked "Are you a Crow?"

"What?" he asked confused before understanding dawned "You mean a man of the night's watch?" and she nodded

"I was one. I have left it since I have awakened my powers."

"So, yer a deserter?" she asked

"Not exactly" he answered "You see I was born among free folk that lived near the Wall. They died in the last long winter trying to keep me alive. The Night's watchmen found me and took me in. They saved me, raised me and trained me. So, I served them for the last few years. But now that all my teammates are dead, I barely survived serving them, I escaped so that they would assume I was also killed by the snow bear that killed my patrol team."

"That's good" she said smiling in relief "So you're not really a crow or a southern kneeler. You are one of us that has returned. But that still leaves us with a problem"

"What's that?" he asked curiously.

"We free folk have a long history of hatred with the Crows. If you come to the village dresses in all black people will not trust you even if you have saved me. Some might just attack you"

"Hmm. You make a valid point. Let's see" he said as he put one hand on the tree he was leaning against and closed his eyes in concentration. Slowly right in front of her eyes his black clothes started turning green and, in a few minutes, he wore green clothes under his chainmail. Then he put his hand on the chainmail and it too gained a greenish tint. Finally, a green cape grew out from his shoulders and flowed behind him. The tree withered slightly and several leaves turned brown and fell.

Her children gasped and pointed in awe at his clothes.

"Green man" she muttered recalling the tales of holy men that wore green, had headdresses with horns and rode elks.

"Better?" He asked

"Yes" Gertrude managed, her voice trembling with awe and a hint of fear in her shocked state at seeing him changing his clothes so easily. She felt equal parts fear and awe at the amazing powers and what it could do to the living tree. What it could do to her.

'No, this is wrong!' she reprimanded herself squashing the irrational fear 'Erik's never used his powers to harm us. After all he's done for us, he doesn't deserve fear but admiration at his restraint and good use of his powers'

"Why green?" she asked.

"It's easier when I'm taking Chlorophyll, the green stuff from the trees" he said "Besides I like green and it suits the whole healer thing I have got going"

'He's starting to look and sound like a Green man that grandma told stories of.' She thought remembering the tales of wise holy men connected to the old gods 'But they have been around for several centuries. I will talk to him about it later. He grew up with the Crows so maybe he doesn't know our folk lore'

Soon they got back to eating chatting amicably.

Erik suddenly stopped eating and quickly got up.

"Can you please pack up the camp after you're done eating?" he asked as he quickly walked over to his horse "I will be back shortly"

"Alright. But why? What happened?" She asked in alarm at his sudden shift of demeanor "I'll fetch my spear."

"Calm down. Everything's alright. There's no danger "he replied as he hopped on the horse "My animal friends just spotted something quite interesting. It's galloping away from us as we speak so I have to be quick if I want to catch up to it. I'll be back by the time you're done packing the camp."

He quickly turned to leave singing strange words that sounded like 'Gotta catch em all'

Gertrude frowned. "Is that… some kind of incantation?"

He just laughed as he rode off.

They continued their breakfast then packed up the camp.

It was almost noon when he returned.

Her children gasped and pointed at something behind her. She whirled around quickly and stopped in shock at what she saw.

"By the old gods" she gasped stunned

Erik had returned but he was not on his horse. He was siting leisurely atop a massive elk that was calmly striding towards them. As it came close, she saw that it was twice as tall as herself from head to toe. It's massive and dangerous looking antlers gleamed white in the sun were almost as wide as it was tall. She had heard of these massive elks in stories only as they had not been seen by her generation. It stopped close by and Erik had to jump down to get off its back. Another smaller female elk shyly followed behind them.

When the giant elk stepped into view, she forgot to breathe. It was like something torn from the oldest tales—massive, regal, its antlers gleaming white in the sunlight.

"Gertrude, boys" he greeted "I'd like you to meet Kahuna, the giant elk"

The boys hesitantly moved forward and petted the massive elk who in turn gently leaned down to greet them and smell them. Gerturde however was still in a state of shock at seeing a mighty beast she'd only heard of in old tales

'He's a green man' she thought 'Old god's chosen. They have sent these Giant elk's our way. Everything he does is exactly what green men were known to do. His actions echo the old legends. Only he doesn't know that'

And in that moment, watching the creature bow its head to her sons, she realized: maybe the Old Gods still watched over them after all—and that maybe what she was witnessing was the beginning of something grand that the old gods have planned for them all.

"Come along now we can get to your village even faster now" Erik said

"What?" she asked to stunned to speak, her eyes still glued to the giant elk twice her height.

"Now we have more than enough beasts for everyone to ride" Erik explained with a smile "You can ride Luna, my horse while the children can ride the female giant elk" seeing her look nervous at the idea "Don't worry they are both under my control and while the Kahuna is bit temperamental, the female elk is quite gentle once you get past her skittish nature"

Gertrude nodded slowly, overwhelmed by the wonder and the power surrounding her.

They worked together to utilize their new mounts effectively. Erik used his flesh crafting to craft saddles with a retractable rope ladder at on side as the giant elks were too tall to climb unaided. Once finished they distributed their camp supplies and essentials onto the three beasts and started the journey towards her village.

Author notes

A comment hinted that they wanted to see bio tinker powers used to make super powerful creatures. They will be formed later on in the story, that and so much more. For now the MC is starting up cautiously and in a medieval society that means subtle enhancements that don't stand out or he could be subject to irrational fear.

If you want to support my writing and get exclusive pre-release ACCESS TO THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS of the story, consider becoming a Patron of this work.

You also get access to the pictures, information sources, music, and videos that I consulted with or that inspired me during the writing process

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[Hordac]

Chapter 5

Erik hummed thoughtfully as Kahuna, his colossal Irish elk, moved with surprising grace beneath him. The towering beast's antlers gleamed in the afternoon sun.

A part of him still marveled at the creature — now both companion and steed — that had become one of his warg-bound partners.

'In the stories there was no mention of Giant elks' he pondered 'but it does make a strange sort of sense. If dire wolves and mammoths exist here as they once did in my world, then why can't other extinct creatures also exist here. Very interesting'

Of course, he couldn't let Kahuna be just as he was. He had to make sure he and his girlfriend were stronger and better equipped to survive this harsh world.

Apart form the standard muscle enhancement and bone enhancement that he had given to all his warg beasts, he had further enhanced the elks by giving them defenses similar to a Honey badger and a wombat.

'Honey badger skin is exceptionally thick, rubbery, and loose, acting as natural armor that is at least 6 mm thick. This unique skin allows the badger to twist and turn inside it, enabling it to escape the grip of predators and even attack its attacker from a disadvantaged position. It also provides significant protection against venomous snake bites, bee stings, and other piercing attacks such as arrows and spear' he thought as his encyclopedic memory provided him information that Amy Dallon had glanced at decades ago when she had helped injured zoo animals.

'A wombat has its rear end is uniquely designed with four fused plates of bone and thick cartilage, making it incredibly tough and resistant to bites and scratches effectively creates an impenetrable shield.' He recalled 'I have given wombat defense to the Giant elk's front chest and buttocks for now and honey badger's skin all over as a general defense'

'These defenses combined with the Elks natural instinct to use its antlers in a charge and gore make it a very formidable opponent' he thought in satisfaction.

Beside him, Gertrude rode Luna, the horse's steady gait matching the calm confidence of their big companion. Her sons giggled and clung to the female elk that calmly followed.

The trail wound down the cliffside like a jagged scar. Below, the sea crashed restlessly against rough black rocks and he could taste the salt even through the air.

The place stirred old memories. Memories of Major Liam on D-day when he was part of the 1st wave of Normandy invasion in World War 2

'This place is morbidly similar to Pointe du Hoc near Normandy' he recalled the major's memories

'The 2nd Ranger Battalion, led by Lt. Col. James Earl Rudder, was tasked with a daring mission to scale the 100-foot cliffs using rope ladders and grappling hooks. Our objective was to capture and disable a heavily fortified German artillery battery on the cliff top, which posed a major threat to the Allied ships and the troops landing on the nearby beaches like Normandy' he though recalling the nightmare that was D-day.

He remembered it all too vividly. Though he had been an engineer, he was assigned to the first wave, responsible for securing the ropes and hooks under relentless enemy fire. The air had been thick with smoke, screams, and gunfire. He had lost many friends that day — brothers in arms who never made it past the climb while others died securing the enemy position.

"Erik" Gertrude called out.

He blinked, shaking off the ghostly echoes of the past as the sound of hooves crunching gravel drew him back to the present. Gertrude rode beside him, her cloak fluttering in the sea breeze. She studied his face for a moment, her brow softening.

"You looked as if you were somewhere far away lost in memory, my grandfather sometimes had such a look on his face" she said gently, her voice carrying easily over the wind. "What are you thinking about?"

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on the horizon where the sun bled into the ocean. "Just… memories," he murmured. "A battle long ago. We were climbing cliffs like these with death raining down on us and even more death waiting at the top. So many died on that day" he rplied vaguely yet truthfully

Gertrude's expression shifted, a flicker of empathy and understanding crossing her face. "For one so young you've seen much combat" she said quietly

For a moment neither spoke. Only the surf and the rhythmic clop of hooves filled the silence. Then Gertrude pointed to her barely visible village. "It doesn't matter. Lining in the past with memories of the dead is no way live, you're here now," she said softly. "Among the living."

He managed a faint smile — weary, but real. "Aye," he said, looking at her. "Among the living."

'Living but living in a world with almost no technology, where winters last years and magical bogey men are not too far away' he thought 'A world that is equally mine and yet so foreign. I can do so much with my gifts here but first I must decide what I really want and more importantly what I am willing to do'

'Focus on the present' he thought looking at his travelling companions and their upcoming reunion

Gertrude eyes were shining with the unmistakable glimmer of homecoming. Her sons, perched atop the smaller elk behind her, whooped with excitement every time they spotted a familiar boulder or landmark.

Erik smiled faintly at their joy.

As they crested the last ridge, he saw it: a small village perched on a rocky plateau overlooking the sea. Wooden palisades, weathered and gray, rose around it like an old guardian. Beyond the walls, faint wisps of smoke curled from chimneys, and the echo of hammers and distant laughter carried on the wind.

For a moment, he simply breathed it in — the mingled scents of salt, pine, and hearth fire.

'A living place, he thought in delight 'Civilization at last. Even of it is an ugly little medieval village perched on top of a cliff'

They were still a few hundred paces from the gate when movement from a watch tower caught his attention and a shout broke the quiet.

"Ho there! Who goes—" The old guard's voice faltered mid-sentence. Erik looked up to see the man frozen atop the watchtower, staring down in disbelief. "By the old gods… GERTRUDE?!"

Then everything moved at once. The man scrambled down the ladder, shouting as he ran. "Open the gate! Open the gate! Gertrude's returned!"

The great wooden gates creaked open, and the guard beckoned them inside.

Their party slowly walked in and started to trot up the path leadfing further into the village.

Then recognition dawned, spreading like fire. Shouts turned to laughter and tears as they rushed forward, calling her name, embracing her sons, touching her as though to make sure she was real.

Villagers started to emerge, some with bows drawn, others with axes, all cautious faces. He saw that Gertrude recognized several familiar figures, her relatives based on similar looks, each looking at her as if trying to confirm her presence was real. Then recognition dawned as they got closer, spreading like fire. Shouts turned to laughter and tears as they rushed forward and surrounded Gertrude and her children, calling their names, embracing her sons, touching them as though to make sure she was real.

Erik slowed Kahuna, the massive elk, letting the others bask in the moment. He sat tall in the saddle, the beast's warm breath steaming in the air, watching from a respectful distance. Some of the villagers' eyes turned toward him — first in awe, then in wary silence. Their gazes flicked from his green-clad figure to the elk's pale, antlered crown that gleamed white in the sunlight. Surprise and recognition flashing through their body language.

Fear, he noted silently. then wonder and recognition. The same mix I've seen in Gertrude's eyes lately.

An old but steady and commanding voice rose above the clamor

"Step aside! Let me through."

The crowd parted as a broad man with a graying beard and a wolf-fur cloak emerged. Erik recognized a leader in the way the villagers looked at him. He carried the weight of command effortlessly — this, Erik guessed, was the chief.

His eyes softened when they found Gertrude, and his voice broke slightly as he spoke.

"Gertrude… you've returned to us. Thank the old gods"

"Uncle!" Gertrude sobbed at the sight of her uncle.

Erik dismounted quietly as she ran to embrace her uncle. The moment was tender — human. He didn't wish to intrude.

He nodded politely to the gathered crowd, his green clothes that blended nicely with the into the natural surroundings now stuck out like a sore thumb, yet he kept up a facade that radiated strength and calm.

When Gertrude turned and pointed toward him, Erik straightened instinctively.

Gertrude introduced him quickly, "This is Erik—the healer, the flesh weaver. He saved us from wolves and led us back here"

Whispers rippled through the crowd. Some looked wary, others awestruck. A few even dubious.

Gertrude took a deep breath. "He's an ally. A friend. He's no enemy."

"Erik" she said nodding in the chief's direction "This is Frode Longbeard, the village any my uncle"

The chief's eyes locked onto him. There was no hostility there — only careful judgment, the kind born of a lifetime of leading people through winters and wars.

The chief studied him for a heartbeat longer, then nodded. "You have my thanks, stranger. For that alone, you'll find no enemy here."

Erik met his gaze evenly and inclined his head in greeting. "They were in danger. I did what was right."

Chief Frode turned to his people, voice ringing out. "This man is our guest. He is welcome here"

The murmurs quieted as the chieftain gestured toward a nearby table where a young woman brought forth a rough-hewn wooden tray. Upon it lay a loaf of coarse bread and a small clay bowl of salt.

"Before anything else, we must honor guest right," he declared in a solemn voice "Bread and salt are offered, and by the old laws, no harm shall come to him under our roof, nor shall he bring harm to us while our bread is in his belly."

He inclined his head and stepped forward. He tore off a piece, dipped it lightly in the salt, and ate it slowly under the watchful eyes of the villagers.

The chief nodded once, his voice carrying finality. "Guest right is given. Let all here bear witness."

A soft murmur rippled through the crowd — tension easing, suspicion softening into cautious respect.

"Come," the chieftain said, motioning toward the village. "You've traveled far. The hearth fire will be warm and the mead strong. Perfect place to talk"

Erik followed as the gate closed behind them, Gertrude walking beside her uncle while her sons darted ahead, laughing and pointing out familiar places.

The village of Korrhavn clung stubbornly to the edge of the cliff like a barnacle defying the sea. Its narrow lanes wound between timber halls and turf-roofed cottages, their walls gray with salt and age. Ropes and drying nets hung from beams, and the scent of smoked fish mingled with pine resin and wet earth.

Seagulls wheeled overhead; their cries sharp against the low roar of the surf below. The streets were cobbled unevenly, slick with spray. Smoke curled from stone chimneys, carrying the aroma of stew and peat. Women paused at their chores to stare, men nodded warily as they passed — measuring the stranger and the enormous elk that followed like a ghostly guardian at his back.

Children peeked from doorways, whispering about the "green man" and his "mighty elk" Erik only smiled faintly at their curiosity even as his own curiosity was peaking.

'What is this green man the children speak of? Everyone recognizes something about me' he thought 'The stories briefly touched on it but that was on the isle of faces not here. I'll have to ask Gertrude when I get a chance'

As they neared the village's heart, the path broadened into a small square where a massive hall stood — the chieftain's dwelling. Its long roof was thatched with dark straw, its walls of timber reinforced with whalebone beams, and carved runes lined its doorway.

'I don't recognize these runes' Erik thought intrigued 'Something new to discover and learn. Maybe they could be used to perform magic'

The chief placed a hand on Gertrude's shoulder. "You'll tell your tale inside," he said quietly. "And your friend — the healer — will have his say too. Come eat and drink. Rest by the fire and tell me everything"

Erik gave a slow nod, his gaze sweeping over the gathered people, the towering cliffs beyond, and the restless sea below. The world felt old here — raw, primal and unvarnished — yet alive in a way his previous ones had long forgotten.

As the sun dipped lower, casting golden light over the village, Erik felt a cautious optimism bloom in his chest.

'The road ahead may still be uncertain' he thought happily 'and I get the feeling that I have taken the first step in the right direction'

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of woodsmoke, mead, and roasting fish. Firelight danced along the carved posts that supported the roof beams — each etched with old runes and worn figures of wolves, ravens, and antlered stags. A central hearth crackled, its flames throwing gold and orange light across the elderly faces gathered within.

Long tables ran down either side of the hall, and as the chief entered, the villagers followed, whispering and taking seats along the benches. The clatter of bowls and the shuffle of boots filled the air.

At the far end stood the high seat — a sturdy chair carved from driftwood and weir wood. The chieftain took his place and gestured for Gertrude and Erik to sit at the table before him.

Gertrude's sons, wide-eyed and restless, sat beside her, each clutching a wooden cup of fish stew a kindly woman had pressed into their hands. Erik lowered himself onto the bench opposite, the heat of the hearth pleasantly soaking into his travel-chilled bones.

He noticed the curious glances again — villagers studying him, some cautious, others intrigued. Their gazes lingered on his green armor of bark and sinew and on his shimmering green cloak

The chieftain leaned forward; hands clasped before him. "Gertrude," he began, his voice carrying the weight of command. "You vanished with the spring thaw. We feared you dead or taken by raiders. Tell us how you came to return — and with this stranger."

Gertrude drew a steadying breath, her eyes glistening in the firelight. "We were taken by an ice river cannibal" she said softly. "The cannibal kept my boys hostage to make sure I obeyed." She shuddered and paused before continuing "He was taking us to the rest of his group when wolves ambushed us and tore the cannibals throat out. Then they turned towards us and were about to attack when Erik and his beasts came to our rescue. We thought all was lost." Her voice caught. "But he found us. He healed us. He kept us safe and escorted us back here."

"Ice river clan?" an elder muscular man muttered "What are they doing this far east? Chief we should send scouts. If they are here, it means they mean to raid us and the surrounding villages"

The murmurs grew louder — disbelief and awe in equal measure.

Chief nodded "We will talk of this later"

The chieftain's eyes turned to Erik. "Is this the truth, flesh-weaver?"

Erik met his gaze evenly. "It is." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

Before the chief could speak again, a reedy voice rose from the circle of elders.

An old woman leaned forward from her seat by the hearth. Her back was bent like an old birch bowed by the wind, but her movements were quick and sure. Wisps of gray hair framed her wrinkled face. Around her neck hung charms of wood and feather, and faint traces of smoke and sage clung to her patched cloak. Her eyes — pale and sharp as winter ice — gleamed with curiosity.

"So, a healer and a warg," she murmured, tapping her gnarled staff on the floor. "I saw the elk outside — the size of a house, it near scared my chickens to death." A dry chuckle escaped her. "tell me, how do ye heal? With herbs or with magic"

"This is Helga, one of our elders and a woods witch" Getrude informed Erik

Erik inclined his head politely. "I prefer the term life weaver. You would call it magic" he replied. "But it's an ability I was granted that lets me re-shape living matter however I see fit"

Helga smiled faintly, showing a few yellowed teeth. "A healer one gifted by the old gods. Polite and humble as well. That's rarer than fresh fruit in the long winters."

A sharp laugh cut through her words.
"Bah! Rarer than sense in a jar of mead!" said Gonir, a wiry man with a mad gleam in his eyes — his beard plaited unevenly, his hands blackened with pitch. He leaned forward eagerly. "Tell me, oh mighty weaver of flesh, when you patched them up — did you sing to the bones? My mother swore bones remember songs better than prayers!" He said cryptically grinning widely, his eyes showed hints of madness.

'What the heck is he talking about?' he thought 'He's giving me joker vibes. Crazy and dangerous. I'll just keep quiet'

After staring at Erik for a while Gonir slapped his knee in jest. "I like this one," he said to the chief. "Has the look of a man who's seen the gods and decided to argue with them."

Laughter rippled through the gathered villagers, easing the tension in the hall.

"That's enough Gonir" Chief said "Gonir here took a lick of the weeping red sap of a weir wood heart tree once when he was but a wee lad. Didn't wake up for a week. Has been like that ever since. He's a brilliant carpenter. Brilliant but crazy"

"I see" he said nodding as it made some weird sort of sense 'Prophetic dreams that his psyche couldn't handle. He sees more than normal people do but his brain can't handle it Maybe I can fix it'

The chief studied him for a long moment, the firelight catching in his gray eyes. Then, slowly, he nodded. "My people owe you a debt, healer. And here in the true North, we pay our debts."

He gestured to a girl. "Bring him honey mead from my stock. The strong kind."

A horn cup was placed in Erik's hand, filled to the brim with golden foam. He lifted it, sniffed once, and took a measured sip. It burned like liquid fire but carried the sweetness of honey and smoke.

The chief drank as well, then set down his cup with a thud. "You'll stay under my roof" he said. "You and the beasts you ride. No one shall harm you while you bear our guest right."

Erik inclined his head. "You honor me."

Helga tilted her head, her eyes gleaming. "Reshape living flesh, you say? Can you mend a heart grown weak? Make a blind man see again?"

Erik nodded slightly. "If the body still holds the spark of life, yes. I can guide it back to what it should be. But I can't raise the dead."

The old woman chuckled, the sound half wheeze, half crow's caw. "And you do it with ritual magic, herbs or praying to the old gods?"

"No" Erik said "but it is a power granted to me by the gods, maybe even one of the old gods"

Across the table, Gonir leaned closer, eyes wide with mischief. "Could you give me gills, flesh-weaver? I'd swim down to the bottom of the sea and fetch my favorite hammer!"

"Gonir!" Helga barked, smacking her staff against the floor. "You can barely swim across the river without drowning your own head."

That earned another round of laughter.

Erik smiled faintly. "If you could hold your breath long enough, I might consider it," he said dryly, which sent Gonir into a fit of delighted cackling.

"You could? Ha! The stranger's got a tongue on him! You hear that, Chief? Not all southerners are dull as sheep dung."

The chieftain's mouth twitched into the ghost of a grin. "Enough, Gonir. You'll scare him off with your nonsense."

"I've met worse," Erik said, glancing into the fire. "And I've worked with people far stranger."

Helga leaned in, her tone shifting — soft but probing. "And what of your beasts, life-weaver? That elk outside — does it speak to you?"

Erik hesitated, considering how much to reveal. "Not with words. More with feelings — impressions. A shared mind, of sorts. I see what he sees when I will it. We understand one another."

Helga's brows rose. "Old magic. Warg magic. Gertrude's husband is also the only warg here. He's out looking for Gertrude. Should be back by in a day or two" She told Gertrude who had perked up at the mention of her husband and "ask the chief about your husband child"

Helga turned back towards him and studied him for a long moment.

"You wear your gifts carefully. I've heard ancient tales of men burn themselves hollow trying to meddle with such power." Helga said "The old Gods are fickle"

"I was almost burned out before," Erik said quietly. "I was giving a way to avoid that by my …. patron that let me learn to control it… or it would've destroyed me."

For a heartbeat, silence hung in the hall — the crackling fire the only sound. Even Gonir stopped grinning.

Then Chief Frode spoke again, voice steady and low. "Then you are one of the old gods chosen. Use your powers wisely for the gods are surely looking out for you. Regardless you saved one of ours — so you're one of us now, for as long as you stay."

Erik inclined his head. "I'll honor that."

Helga smirked. "We'll see. Talk is wind. Actions root deeper."

Gonir raised his cup. "Aye! To the flesh-weaver — and to his elk that scared Helga's hens half to death!"

The hall erupted in laughter again, mugs clashing together as mead sloshed over the rims.

Erik took another sip, warmth spreading through him as he looked around the smoky hall — firelight, laughter, old gods carved into the beams above. For the first time in months, he felt something close to belonging.

The festive atmosphere continued on. The murmur of voices filled the hall once more — questions, laughter, toasts to Gertrude's return. Her sons had already fallen asleep against her side, their faces soft in the flickering light.

Erik let himself relax feeling safe for the first time since his awakening.

'I think I'll stay here a while. Long enough to get my bearings, decide what o really want and firm up my plans' he thought to himself as he the familiar buzz of alcohol soothed him.

For now, there was warmth. There was peace.

Author notes:

Author's Note:

If you want to support my writing and get exclusive pre-release ACCESS TO THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS of the story, consider becoming a Patron of this work.

You also get access to the pictures, information sources, music, and videos that I consulted with or that inspired me during the writing process

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[Hordac]

Chapter 6
The days after Erik's arrival Gertrude's return settled into a calm rhythm. The villagers went about their work, repairing nets, tending fields, fishing on their tiny boats or hauling driftwood from the rocky shore.
It had been a week since Erik's arrival in Korrhavn and in that time, he had attended to to every injured villager, healed wounds both simple and grievous, and helped mend broken tools and even untangle some old fisherman's tangled nets. His presence had become a quiet, steady reassurance in the village. Erik had become something more than a guest — and something less than ordinary.
Yet he still felt restless. His enhanced mind didn't help matters as everywhere he looked ideas and concepts of improvement kept popping up enticing him to act on them.
Word had spread quickly: the life-weaver who rode the massive armored elk, a warg who had many beasts and healed with a touch. The old women whispered that he was one of the Green Men of legend — chosen of the Old Gods, sent from the deep forests to walk among men once more. Men nodded in reverence when he passed, and mothers brought their infants for him to bless.
At first, he tried to refuse — but their eyes were full of desperate faith. So, he learned to simply smile, place his hand lightly on a brow or a swaddled head, and murmur a few quiet words meanwhile giving the child a little checkup and healing if needed. The newborns were healthier and growing bigger that way, or so their mothers swore.
By the beach, men mending nets called to him, "Life-weaver! Pray to the sea gods for us — may the catch be fat and the waves gentle!"
He would nod, feeling awkward yet moved by their belief. Once, when the nets came back bursting with silver fish, they said the Old Gods had heard his words even though he had done nothing.
'They didn't believe me when I tried to explain it to them' he thought in exasperation. Still, he felt the weight of their awe and it made him a little uncomfortable
Helga watched it all with a crooked smile. "Careful, green man," she told him one evening by the fire. "Folk love their miracles — till the day one goes wrong."
"I know that. I'm no god's chosen," Erik said quietly. "Just a man who understands life a little better than most."
"Then tell them that," she said grinning, poking at the coals, "and they'll call you liar twice over."
"Besides who can say whether you are their chosen or not. "She said grinning showing missing teeth "If you look like a green man and perform miracles like one, to us you are one. Your opinion doesn't matter"
Erik huffed but nodded in reluctant agreement. She was right.
He had grown used to the rhythm of the village — the cries of gulls at dawn, the tang of salt and pine, the hammering of Gonir's mallet echoing from his workshop. Children no longer ran from Kahuna's towering shape; they followed at a distance, daring each other to touch the elk's shadow.
Each day, Erik ventured into the surrounding wilderness, experimenting with his powers in the dappled forests and rugged cliffs. He discovered that his ability to reshape living matter was getting better the more he used it.
So he experimented with many things like with manipulating plants to grow rapidly, coaxing vines and roots to twist and form into makeshift bridges or barriers and finding useful plants seeds and manipulating their DNA for desired results. He had asked Helga to plant the prototypes in her garden.
Wandering the village, Erik had asked around for Gertrude's home. Upon following the directions, he found Gertrude in her home earlier that morning cleaning up her place. Her hands were steady, but the worry in her eyes betrayed her. Henrik — her husband — along with several hunters had gone out searching for her days ago. They still had not returned.
Even so, she greeted Erik with a warm smile, relieved beyond measure to be home.
To pull her thoughts away from the anxiety gnawing at her, Erik shifted the conversation.
"Gertrude," he began, "earlier… some villagers called me a Green Man. Explain it to me. What does that mean to your people?"
Gertrude brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and sat beside the hearth gesturing him to sit as well. A gentle, curious smile touched her lips, softening the shadows beneath her eyes.
Gertrude looked at Erik with a curious, gentle smile. "You asked about the Green Men earlier," she said softly. "In the stories of the Old Gods and the North, the Green Men are figures wrapped in myth and nature. They're often seen as a spirit of the forests, a guardian of the woods, woven into the very trees and leaves."
"Some stories say they were priests chosen by the Old Gods, touched by nature's will. Others claim they were spirits — neither man nor beast, but something between. A force more than a person. Wild. Unpredictable. Eternal."
Her expression grew distant, as though she were reaching back into childhood tales told by a fire.
"In songs, the Green Men aren't good or evil. They simply are. Like storms, or spring, or the turning of leaves. The North honored them — asked them for blessings for fertile earth, safe hunts, safe passage through dark woods, blessings for newborns… guidance."
She turned back to him then, studying him with a quiet intensity.
"People haven't seen one in centuries. Many think the Green Men died out, or were swallowed by the forests. But…" She hesitated; the next words fragile but honest. "But when we speak to you, Erik… there's a feeling. As if we're speaking to an old wise man trapped inside a young body. Your healing ability. Your life-weaving. The animals' calm around you. The way the trees almost… listen."
She took a deep breath.
"It all seems part of what a Green Man once was. It is as if the tales are bout you. Perhaps the land itself accepts you. Or perhaps the Old Gods — if they still watch — have woven you into something they recognize."
Gertrude's voice softened.
"Whether or not you are one… the village feels safer with you here."
Erik sat quietly after Gertrude's words, staring into the wavering firelight. The idea of being mistaken for a Green Man lingered around him like mist — ancient, half-formed, and unsettling.
'A religious figure. A symbol. A myth reborn.' He exhaled slowly. 'Me? A spiritual leader?'
The thought crawled uncomfortably across his mind. In his old life — and even in this one — he had never pictured himself wearing the mantle of faith. He wasn't a priest, nor a prophet. He didn't want worship. He wanted progress. Structure. A future built with hands and minds, not blind devotion.
But… he wasn't foolish. Symbols mattered. Belief mattered.
'And in a land like this — primitive, fractured, and suspicious — belief and hope were the strongest currency of all' he thought
He rubbed his thumb on his thighs thinking, planning strategizing as his photographic memory provided him numerous explames of religious figures great thing both good and bad.
'If they see me as a Green Man… that solves the mistrust problem' he thought
'People feared strangers and he was a stranger. They feared magic and what he did would be seen as magic.' Erik pondered
'But if the same magic was wrapped in the comforting shape of an old legend and shrouded in a religious garb— one that their parents and grandparents told tales about — then what was once strange suddenly became something else.' He thought
'It becomes sacred.' He realized
A door that had been half-closed before now creaked open.
He didn't like the idea of misleading them… but was it deception if it helped them? If it healed their sick, fed their children, and lifted them from hunger and cold?
He leaned back, staring at the rafters.
'This could work. All of it.' He thought 'Not just here. Not just this lonely cliffside village.'
If the story spread…
If the wildlings beyond the Wall whispered of a Green Man returning — one who healed wounds, tamed beasts, strengthened forests, and taught them the secrets of old gods that improved their lives.
Maybe, just maybe, they would listen.
"They're scattered," he murmured to himself, unheard in Gertrude's quiet home. "Tribes, clans, families. Unified in their suffering and divided in everything else."
What they lacked was leadership.


What they lacked was a vision.


What they lacked was someone to guide them into a future that didn't end in winter and starvation.
He thought of the school he planned to start, the children eager for tricks and knowledge, of a generation raised on learning, structure, discipline — and loyalty.
One village at first.
But from one seed could grow a forest.
He felt the stirrings of something vast inside him — not greed, not pride, but purpose.
"If the Old Gods need a Green Man," he whispered, "then fine. I'll be their Green Man."
'Not for worship. Not for glory.' Erik thought 'But to teach these people. To improve their lives. To guide them into accepting innovation — irrigation, stone walls, proper forges, written laws, medicine, discipline. To replace chaos with order. To build something lasting.'
And if the wildlings needed a uniting banner…
Then he would give them one.
A single nation, shaped by his hands, under his guidance — and protected from the long night he knew would one day fall.
He closed his eyes, steadying himself.
Religious leader or not…
He would make this land listen.
"Thank you, Gertrude," he told her, rising to his feet. His voice carried a steadiness she hadn't seen in him before — a quiet conviction settling like a stone in deep water. "You were very helpful. Your explanation has helped me clear my mind and come to decisions."
Gertrude looked up at him, still troubled for her missing husband, yet genuinely warmed by his gratitude. She offered a soft smile, one hand resting over her heart.
"Happy to help," she replied. "Truly. We owe you our lives. It was nothing."
Erik shook his head gently. "It wasn't nothing. Not to me. Now I have purpose."
For a heartbeat the two stood in the dim glow of the hearth — the weary mother who had survived against all odds worried for her missing husband and the stranger who was no longer just a stranger.
He stepped toward the door, pausing as the cool sea wind pushed against the wooden frame.
Gertrude's eyes followed him, curious. "Where are you going now?"
Erik glanced back at her, a faint, knowing smile touching his face.
"To start turning ideas into action."
There was something different in his gaze — sharper, clearer. As though a path that had been fog-hidden mere hours before had now revealed itself stone by stone.
"The chief and the elders need to hear what I've decided," he said. "And the village children need… a new kind of purpose."
Gertrude blinked. "A purpose?"
"You'll see," Erik said simply.
And it started with a single conversation with the chief and elders, a small room full of children… and a future quietly taking shape.
That evening, he sat with the chieftain and the elder council by the longhouse hearth. The firelight painted their faces in shifting gold and shadow.
"Your people are strong," Erik began, his tone measured but carrying the confidence of someone used to being obeyed. "But strength alone builds walls, not nations. You need minds that can measure, count, design. Like the southern kneelers who live better lives because of it"
The chief frowned. "We have hunters, farmers, fighters. That has always been enough."
Before Erik could answer, Gonir—thin as a reed, eyes bright with the strange manic energy he was famous for—leaned sideways and whispered loudly as though confiding in the fire itself:
"Enough? Enough for what, Chief? Enough to scrape fish from the same rocks until our bones turn to rot?"
He giggled, tapping his fingers together. "The world spins, but we sit like lumps of cold dough."
The chief sighed. "Gonir…"
Erik hid his amusement. "Thank you, Gonir."
"Oh, don't thank me!" Gonir said, waving wildly. "I'm only saying what whispers I hear in my head. They say nature is all about change and when things stay the same too long that's not natural"
He peered suddenly close at Erik. "And you… you walk like a man about to make big changes for everyone."
Erik smiled faintly. "Gonir is right. This is why you remain here, fishing the same shore your fathers fished. I offer something different. A school of sorts — just a few hours each day. The children will learn reading, numbers, logic. Games of thought. I will teach them, at least until they can teach one another."
Murmurs passed among the elders. One of them, Elder Agnar, the one always suspicious of change — spat into the fire. "And what would that gain us? Idle hands invite trouble."
Gonir snorted, throwing his hands up. "Oh yes, Agnar the Wise!" His tone dripped sarcasm. "Because children running wild in the forest and climbing cliffs are so much safer than children learning how to think."
He leaned closer to the elder, voice dropping. "Maybe you're worried they'll get smarter than you."
Agnar bristled. "Watch your tongue, fool."
Gonir grinned a crooked, almost gleeful grin. "Oh, it wanders on its own. Like a mischievous little snake."
Erik leaned forward. "Idle minds invite worse. I'm looking for diamonds buried in the mud — sharp ones. Leaders, craftsmen, thinkers. Those who can help me build using knowledge given to me by the gods. Your village will prosper, and your sons and daughters will not just survive — they'll thrive."
Helga the wise woman chuckled softly. "You speak like a man who already knows what tomorrow looks like."
"Not exactly" Erik replied "You see I have dreams. Dreams of worlds where people live a better and safer life that is free of hunger, and raider. A place that is safe and prosperous. With the dreams come the knowledge to making this world better like that one" Erik replied. "I intend to make sure it does"
Gonir rocked back on his heels, staring at Erik with that strange, penetrating wonder.
"A man who dreams of a better tomorrow… or a man who makes it?" he mused. "Either way, I'd like to watch. It sounds fun."
After a pause, the chief nodded. "Do it then. But if our children start talking like madmen, it'll be your head."
Gonir clapped happily. "Madmen? Oh, Chief, if only you knew — madness is a treasure! The right madness builds ships, bridges, kingdoms!"
Agnar muttered, "Enough of your babble."
Gonir leaned beside him, whispering in his ear, "It's only babble because you don't understand it."
The glare Agnar shot him could have curdled milk, but Gonir only laughed, airy and delighted.
Agnar's eyes—small, flinty, always calculating—turned to Erik. The elder sat stiffly, arms crossed as though bracing himself against an unseen storm. His jaw worked side to side, chewing on a thought he didn't dare speak aloud.
Erik met his gaze evenly. Not challenging, but not yielding either.
Agnar was the first to look away.
Erik inclined his head respectfully, though the corner of his mouth twitched with something sharper. "I'll take responsibility for their minds," he said. "You only need to allow them to grow."
The chief grunted, acceptance given, discussion closed.
The council broke up slowly afterward, elders rising and shuffling off into the night with Gonir leaving in the end.
Helga lingered longest. She stopped beside Erik and tapped her walking staff lightly against the floor.
"You speak truths these men don't yet have names for," she said. "That frightens them. Their way has helped them survive. They fear change"
Erik shrugged. "Fear can be shaped. With patience."
"And if not?" she asked
Before Erik could speak, Gonir popped his head back into the firelight from the doorway.
"Oh, if not, then things break!" he chirped. "People, rules, bones… but sometimes things need breaking before they can be built."
Helga gave him a long, patient look. "Go home, Gonir."
"Yes, yes, yes… going!" He danced backward toward the darkness. "But Erik! I want to see your school. I want to see if your diamonds shine… or explode!"
He vanished outside with cackling laughter echoing behind him.
Helga gave him a knowing look. "Keep watch on Agnar. A man who fears he's becoming useless is the one who makes the most trouble."
"I noticed," Erik murmured.
When she finally stepped outside, Erik remained alone before the dwindling fire. The flames crackled softly, casting long, restless shadows across the longhouse walls.
Some will resist just because the world is changing faster than they can hold it together, he thought. Agnar especially. But resistance can become loyalty… if guided well.
He folded his arms, eyes narrowing as embers collapsed into sparks.
I'll watch him. I'll win him over if I can. Eik thought and if not… I'll make sure he never threatens what I'm building.
The first school in a land that had never known one would begin soon.

Author's Note:

If you want to support my writing and get exclusive pre-release ACCESS TO THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS of the story, consider becoming a Patron of this work.

You also get access to the pictures, information sources, music, and videos that I consulted with or that inspired me during the writing process

To Become a Patron Visit: pat reon dot com /Hordac Fics

 

[Hordac]

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[Hordac]

Ch 7

Having received Chief Frode's and the elder's approval, Erik knew that before the first lesson could begin, he had problems to tackle.
I need a place of my own — somewhere to sleep, to think, to work, he thought. And I need a place to teach.

Even with the chief's roof over his head and bread always waiting at the table, unease settled in his chest. Guest right was sacred… until it wasn't. Stay too long, and generosity turned into obligation, and obligation into silent resentment.

Time to stand on my own feet again, he thought. I can't live on their generosity forever. Food's not an issue with by Warg beasts hunting better than any man, what I need is a place of my own – a home. A place where I can teach as well.

Every house in the village was tiny, cramped, and drafty — perfectly adequate for people used to them, but not for someone raised in a world of insulation, plumbing, and privacy. Erik wanted something different, and more importantly, he needed a workspace that would impress and inspire and a place with much needed privacy.

So he decided to build his own home using his enhanced memory and powers to the extreme.

'This way I get to practice and improve my bio tinkering while trying to build the near equivalent of a modern house here.' He thought as exciting crazy ideas started popping into his head.' Let's see if I can make the medieval world a little more… modern.'

The perfect location already waited: an old, massive chestnut tree near the outskirts of the village but still within the wooden palisade. Hardy, cold-resistant, but no longer bearing nuts.

Above the ground it looked like two separate tree that was at least 30 feet apart but he had discovered that it was actually a single tree with a single enormous root that spread wider than both trees combined. Both the trunks were thick and angled away from each other to get better sunlight. The crown's radius was around 60 feet each.

"Reminds me of the famous hundred horse chestnut in Sicily" he muttered "This is apparently a smaller version of it"

'It's not producing chestnuts to eat so I can do with it whatever I want with it' He thought as he walked around the tree planting a tree house in his mind.

Sitting down next to the tree he closed his eyes and put both palms on its trunk and concentrated.

The tree was slower to respond than flesh but it did start to shift. Slowly over the course of the day a tree house began to be formed made entirely from the tree's own branches.

Hours passed. Villagers gathered. Whispers spread.

By sunset, something extraordinary rose from the canopy.

The treehouse was mostly hidden in the canopy with a dozen windows visible among the leaves, each shaped from curved wooden ribs, poked through the foliage for light and ventilation. A broad terrace faced westward, catching the dying sun. The walls were a single living structure, two feet thick in places. Doors were latticed weaving of small branches, flexible but sturdy, swinging on hinges of living fibers.

The total covered area was around 3000 square feet. He's converted most of it into a large hall with a few rooms to one side along with a kitchen and washroom. The plumbing was made of hollow wood coated with resin to make them water resistant. A large hollowed area above the treehouse but still in the canopy was made into a water tank that was filled by the tree itself using modified xylem that transported purified water to the water tank. The sewage plumbing from the kitchen was hidden in one of the trunks which led down to the deepest roots to one side where he had used the roots to create a septic tank.

The tree's health was boosted as much as possible. He had poured energy into the tree as he worked, boosting its health and vitality to ensure the house would endure.

Its canopy was spread further outwards a few meters in all directions to provide more sunlight. Carbon fibers was woven into the trunk and main branches to make it tougher without adding weight.

Finally, a set of revolving stairs was made to come out of one the trunks which lead into his tree house

'I think I overdid it.' He thought at the end of the day. He was tired and feeling drained but very happy with his creation. His muscles had shrunk visibly and he got leaner as his fit body's limited fat stores were used up.

The villagers marveled at his house.

Old Gonir, the carpenter and boat builder, marched forward with an exaggerated pout, arms flapping.

"This—this—this is cheating!" he declared, voice climbing an octave. "I've been carving planks and beams my entire life, and you— you just grow a house out of thin air!"
He poked a branch wall accusingly. "Do you know how much work it takes to make a door that doesn't creak? And you— you whisper to a tree and it obeys you like an eager puppy!"

Some villagers laughed under their breath.

Gonir spun around dramatically, eyes wide and wild.
"Oh yes, laugh! Laugh! The poor carpenter has been replaced by magic roots and whispering madness!"
He leaned close to Erik, squinting. "You're going to drive me out of business, you know. Completely, utterly, spectacularly out!"

Erik smirked. "Or you could help me with the interior."

Gonir blinked. Then he blinked again.

"Oooooh. Interior." Gonir facial expression shifted quickly from angry to happy.

His head tilted like a curious raven. "Fine! But I'm charging you extra for being a tree-wizard."

"Fair." Erik agreed smiling at the old man's antics.

Gonir clapped sharply. "Good! Now let me see what insanity you've built in there."

He scampered up the spiral staircase like a child. His long legs, thin frame and swaying beard made him look like a ridiculous cartoon character as he skipped every other stair in his hurry.

The villagers marveled. Some whispered prayers. Others touched the trunk, unsure if it was a blessing or something far stranger. Erik gestured at them to come inside and have a look at the newest addition to their village.

Let them see for themselves. Curiosity will soften their fear — and I'll shape the rest with my explanations, Erik thought as a few brave souls approached the stairs, prompting the others to follow. He was about to follow behind when Helga's voice interrupted him.

Helga's voice drifted from behind them, dry as wind through leaves. "So the green man takes root. The Old Gods will be watching that."

Erik smiled faintly. "Then I'll give them something worth watching."

Helga chuckled, her eyes glinting like flint. "Careful, boy. The gods have a cruel sense of humor."

"They do indeed" Erik agreed as breathed deeply, feeling more grounded than he had since arriving.

He finally had a home.
And in a few days, he would begin building a school in it.

'For now I need to rest' he thought groaning 'But I have show the villagers around first to sate their curiosity. 'No rest for wicked I guess'

----

A few days later, Erik was bent over a half-finished frame of living wood, coaxing the branches to grow into the shape of school furniture under his hands. The living wood shifted slowly beneath his touch, responding to his will as the it curved and twisted to form a table.

To appease Gonir he'd commissioned some furniture from the eccentric builder who'd promptly dumped the workload on his lazy apprentices. Still, he needed the something done sooner like this school furniture which he was building by himself

He paused, wiping the sweat from his brow, when the sound of shouting drifted up from the village gate — raised voices, hurried footsteps followed by the shrill cry of a woman.

He frowned but kept working. Villagers shouted often enough — over fish, over wood, over pride. But then he heard his name being called out.

"Life-weaver! Master Erik!"

A young boy came sprinting up the path, breathless, eyes wide as saucers. "Master Erik — Helga says come quick! The hunters have returned — Henrik among them! They're hurt bad!"

Erik straightened at once, his pulse quickening. "How many?"

"Four! They just came through the gate. They looked in bad shape. Helga's trying to stop it, but she said— she said they won't last long!"

"Come with me," Erik said, already moving.

The boy turned and ran, Erik following in long strides.

When Erik reached Helga's hut, a small crowd had gathered. Gertrude stood near the doorway, white-faced, clutching her sons. Her voice broke when she saw him. "Erik— please— it's Henrik! They found him— gods, he's dying!"

Inside, the air stank of blood, sweat, and old herbs. Four men lay on the rushes, leather armor torn and dark with gore. One was missing an arm below the wrist while another had a bandaged headwound that smelled bad. Both were unconscious. The third and youngest among them had blood all over him but no visible injury apart from a shoulder wound. Henrik was among them — his skin gray, his breathing shallow. A wooden shaft jutted from his side, the wound pulsing sluggishly with dark blood and pus.

'Injuries are at least a day old if not more' he observed 'salvageable'

Helga knelt beside him, her hands red, muttering prayers to the old gods as she applied smelly poultices. She glanced up at Erik as he entered, her face lined with strain. "They were ambushed — Ice River men again. Two dead already before they made it back. If you can heal them green man, now's the time to do it."

Erik dropped to his knees beside Henrik, eyes scanning the wound. "Hold him steady."

Gertrude moved forward, trembling. "Please — please, don't let him die."

"I'll do what I can, don't worry" Erik said calmly. He rested a hand on Henrik's chest; the man's heartbeat was weak but still there.

He closed his eyes, letting his power flow. His powers spreading through Henrik's torn flesh.

"Two Broken ribs, torn muscles, severe blood loss, internal bleeding in chest cavity, Arrow nicked intestines. Infected wound" he reported. Gertrude gasped and her crying intensified

"He's strong to have this much injury and still be alive" he said "and lucky that I got to him in time"

Over the next few minutes Bone knit, muscle reformed, the arrow shaft pushed itself out as if rejected by the body. The bleeding stopped; some color returned to the man's cheeks. His muscles shrunk visibly and he got leaner as his fit body's limited fat stores were used up instantly.

Gasps filled the room.

One of the other hunters groaned, clutching his injured arm. "Gods... by the gods… he healed him…"

Helga's voice was low, reverent. "He weaves the flesh like thread through a loom…"

Erik opened his eyes, breathing heavily. "The worst is gone. He'll sleep for a day or two, but he'll live." He said turning to Gertrude "Give him lots to eat when he wakes up. I've used all the extra muscles and fat stores his body had to offer"

Gertrude fell to her knees beside her husband, tears streaking her face. "Thank you… oh gods, thank you."

Erik touched her shoulder gently. "He's strong. He just needed a chance."

He quickly turned to the others injured and over the next hour finished healing most of their injuries.

Erik turned to the man with the head wound, finding a skull fracture and a festering infection beneath the bandages. He was the oldest and most well equipped of this lot. His body also had many old scars so he theorized he was the leader and most experienced warrior. He used his power to wake him up from his unconscious state seeing he was out of danger.

"I'll fix the missing hand once he gets better and has had some food and rest" he told Helga gesturing to the only crippled patient. "His body can't handle this much healing in one go"

Helga stood slowly, wiping her hands. "Three of them saved — when I'd have buried them by nightfall. I've seen many healers in my years, boy, but none like you."

One of the older hunters stared at him in awe. "You are blessed by the gods, life-weaver. No man can do what I just saw. I'm Ullar. Captain of our militia"

"Well met Ullar. I'm just using what nature allows," Erik said softly. "The body knows how to mend itself — I just remind it and help it along."

Gonir burst in then, panting, covered in sawdust. "The whole village's talkin', lad! Said you pulled a man back from the door of death itself!"

Helga gave him a sharp look. "And maybe he did. So, mind your tongue — show respect when the gods' work is near."

"The gods had little to do with it," Erik muttered.

But the others were no longer listening. Outside, the crowd had begun to chant softly — a murmured prayer to the old gods. Their voice and face conveying genuine gratitude and awe.

"Green Man," Gonir whispered. "You're one of the Old Gods' chosen. Their messenger"

Erik looked around the small hut — the men breathing again, Gertrude weeping over her husband, Helga studying him as though he were some ancient riddle.

He sighed. This is how myths begin, he thought. And there's no stopping them now.

-------

The next day after healing the returning injured hunters was the first day of school for the children of the village.

He had decided to use the large empty hall of his newly built home as a temporary school. It wasn't much of a school yet — just long benches, rough-hewn tables, a black board and the echo of a space too large for its purpose — but to the little ones of the cliffside village, it might as well have been a hall of wonders. With a touch of his hand, he had shaped a section of the wall into a smooth, flat blackboard, the stone bending and darkening under his will like a living thing.

By dawn, Erik was already at work, crouched beside a bucket of sap and charcoal dust. His bio-tinker powers coaxed the mixture into smooth, uniform sticks — simple pencils, hardened just enough to keep tiny hands from snapping them. Next came the pages: thin shavings of treated bark pressed together into crude but durable books. Not perfect, but in a land where writing was a rarity, they were treasures.

He laid them neatly in rows on a long bench.
Good. If they have something to hold, something to claim as theirs, they'll come, he thought.

When the village bell tolled for midday, the first children trickled in. Some peeked around the doorway shyly, others marched straight inside, eyes bright. Word had spread fast: Anyone who came to Erik's class would get a sweet treat at the end.

Dan and Sven stood proudly near him now, as if they were his personal assistants. Sven kept repeating, far too loudly, "You did say you'll give us sweets after the lesson. Real ones. Not the bitter root-candies!"

This alone had apparently mobilized half the children in the village.

A boy no older than seven whispered to his friend, "Do you think he has honey cakes today?"
Another girl, barefoot and bold, replied, "I don't care. I want one of those writing sticks."

Erik smiled and clapped his hands. "All right, everyone. Find a seat — yes, anywhere. That's good."

The murmur quieted as he picked up a piece of chalk, he'd made using powdered bones and drew a single line on the board.

"Today," he began, "we start with something new. The common tongue spoken in the lands south of the Wall. Your old tongue is beautiful, but it is mostly spoken, not written. Its runes aren't made for long words or detailed records."

'I have reviewed the native runic script which unfortunately is pictographic and syllabic, ill-suited for the scientific and administrative revolution I plan to bring here, whereas the phonetic alphabet is more flexible and powerful.' Erik thought 'Switching is simply more strategically necessary rather than just convenient. And since no one here knows it's written form they can't complain I'm teaching their kids southern kneeler language'

He tapped the chalk against the board, drawing a neat A. Surprisingly the common tongue was mostly the same as English.

"This," he said, "is the first letter. There are twenty-six more."

Gasps rippled through the room.
"Twenty-six letters?"
"That's too many!"
"Shh! Let him talk!"

He wrote the numbers next — 1 through 10, each one crisp, each one foreign to their eyes.

"These symbols," he said, "allow you to write anything. Names. Stories. Even the things your elders fear to forget. They let you read of people's stories that are long gone or lived faraway"

Some of the children leaned forward, fascinated. Others glanced toward the basket of wrapped sweet rolls resting on the corner table, their motivation far more immediate.

Erik chuckled. "And if you try your best today…" — he lifted the basket in one hand — "you'll earn one of these."

Cheers erupted. Even the shy ones edged closer, determination sparked by sugary treats.

As class began, small hands clutched clumsy pencils, tongues poked out in concentration, and the first uneven letters scratched across the bark-paper pages.

For the first time, the village echoed not with shouts or chores — but with the soft, hopeful sound of children learning to write.

When the lesson ended, the children erupted into excited chatter—and that was when Erik pulled out the small cloth bundle from his satchel.

A collective gasp rippled through the group.

Inside were sugar drops—hard, amber-colored sweets he had made from sugar he had extracted from plants. Simple, but to these children, miraculous.

Erik held the bundle high. "One each. After you line up."

The children stampeded into a line so orderly even the chief would have been proud.

He watched as each little hand accepted a sweet with reverence, eyes wide, mouths already watering.

Days turned to a week and patterns emerged. A mousy orphan thirteen-year-old boy Einar, a quiet, sharp-eyed youth named Einar — grasped numbers faster than the rest. He even solved harder questions Erik gave as exercises after learning them only once.

Einar's mother had passed at birth and he had barely survived. As his father married another who had little interest in looking after a scrawny weak child who need constant attention, Helga had taken the boy in and raised him later making him one of her apprentices. He still had a thin weak frame that was usually hidden under extra layers of clothing and his eyesight was weak.

Erik simply fixed the eyesight and performed minor tweaks to his metabolism and growth hormones so that he would eat more and start growing taller.

Erik decided to teach him separately and began training him privately to ensure his genius level potential in math was fully realized.

"You see this?" Erik said one afternoon, pointing to a charcoal-marked journal. "This isn't just counting coin. It's the language of power as math is the language of the universe. Learn it, and no man can cheat you — or rule you."

"I will." Einar nodded; eyes gleaming. "Um .. what is coin?"

Erik groaned internally. One of the things he hated about this area was the utter lack of economy.

'Everything is bartered. It makes everything so much more difficult' he groused 'I guess I'll have to introduce currency as well'

"it is a better way than barter" he answered resisting the urge to simply upgrade his brain.

'I could enhance him and the other's with NZT upgrade that I did to myself' Erik thought 'But in the Limitless movie it was strongly implied that the smarter the original brain was, the better were the result of the enhancement. I will teach them and allow them to reach their natural potential then I'll give a select few the boost. This period will also increase their trust and loyalty towards me so in their enhanced state they don't betray me'

Another pupil stood out for entirely different reasons — Sven, Gertrude's eldest son. He could barely stay still during lessons staring out toward the paddocks where his horse and elks stayed but he endured for the promised treats he got.

Erik followed the boy's gaze to the paddocks. Restless energy, good with a slingshot... the pieces clicked together in his mind. This one wouldn't be a clerk; he would be a project of a different kind.

Erik knew that Sven was a good shot with his slingshot meaning he had good hand-eye co-ordination and he loved riding his horse or elks. Seeing this Erik decided to carve a new path for Sven and see what he could do.

One day after class, Erik did not hand him the usual treat. Instead, he presented a small bow and a target made of tightly bound straw. The boy's eyes lit up with a fierce excitement, and Erik knew without a doubt he had chosen well.

The very next day, Erik began teaching him to control a mount with nothing but his feet. He guided the boy's movements carefully, planting subtle muscle memories that would grow into instinct with every passing ride. Each day, Sven became more fluid, more attuned to the rhythm of horse and body as one.

From that day forward, Erik took on the task of shaping Sven into something this world had never seen: a cavalry archer. Not even the Dothraki—whose legends had yet to be born in this land—could claim such mastery. Here, in this quiet corner of the world, a new kind of warrior was taking shape.

The other children — not as gifted, perhaps — still learned to read and write, to track and to calculate. They too would become useful as they would become clerks, aides, assistants — pieces in a design only Erik could fully see.

If only they knew of the horror of the modern world I am bringing to their simple world, Erik thought, watching the children scratch letters on their notebooks. Here I am, quietly inventing red tape in a world untouched by paperwork. Gods help them the day they realize I've also created the job of "clerk." They'll think it's sorcery that turns simple tasks into week-long quests and infinite frustrations.
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[Hordac]

Ch 8

It had been two months since Erik had arrived in the village and things had settled into a routine and he had begun to feel restless.

Villagers were happy to have him around. He cured their wounds, helped them in numerous small ways, kept their kids busy in their school activity and his warg beasts continuously brought venison for them. Several of the parents of his students had asked to be taught to read, write and do simple maths and had joined his class. He'd encouraged this behavior by giving them more venison than others as he wanted a few villagers capable of running the class in his absence.

One evening, Erik sat outside the long hall, staring into the dying embers of the hearth fire. The horizon was painted in streaks of purple and gold, and the sea below whispered its eternal song. His fingers traced idly in the dirt, contemplating the invisible walls of his comfortable new life. Part of him knew that for all the blessings he should be happy and content but his mind just wouldn't sit still and be happy with the progress he's made here in the village.

He wanted to do more. On a much grander scale.

Helga approached silently, her apprentices including Gertrud trailing behind her.

"You've done so much good here," she said softly, settling beside him. "But I can see it in your eyes—you're restless."

He nodded, offering a faint smile. "I've healed the wounds, mended the tools, helped the village where I could. Even built a wonderful huge house and started a school. But I feel… like there's more I can do, I know it."

Gertrude studied him in the flickering firelight. "Perhaps it's time to seek out the truth of your powers, beyond what you've already learned. The world is vast, and your gifts are rare. You need to have a talk with the green seer. He will guide you"

Erik exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of her words. "You're right. I've been so focused on helping here, I forgot that my journey was never meant to end in comfort in a small village. I need to find why I was granted these powers to understand who I truly am and what I am meant to be"

He stood, stretching his limbs and feeling strength in his muscles. "Tomorrow, I will go to heart tree. And perhaps… I'll find some long-awaited answers that I too was uncomfortable knowing to answers to until now"

Helga nodded, a hint of pride and concern in her eyes.

"Be careful, Erik. The old gods..." She trailed off, as if the words themselves were dangerous. "But I believe you'll do what's right."

As darkness settled, Erik gazed out over the sea once more, the stars beginning to prick the night sky. His mind was already racing with possibilities—hidden groves, ancient ruins, creatures yet unseen.

the air within the Gods wood was different. It was not merely quiet, but listening. The rustle of the red leaves of the great weir wood was a language Erik was beginning to understand. He had been here for a moon's turn, a stranger in a familiar world, his modern mind housed in a local body gifted by forces he called the Old Gods for lack of a better term.

He was alive and living a fantasy that many dreamed of. He had powers. The village he'd settled in respected and revered him. But it was not enough. He was a tool without a wielder, a weapon without a war. He needed answers. He needed a purpose. And he knew only one entity in this world could provide it.

He had tried to listen before, to feel a presence, but had only found silence. Today, he would not ask. He would demand, with an offering of blood and a flare of will that could not be ignored.

He stood before the heart tree, its carved face weeping slow, scarlet tears. His offering was simple: his own Blood. He willed small gashes to open in his palms and as blood began coming out that he smeared on the heart tree.

"To the Gods who see," he began, his voice low but steady, cutting through the silence. "To the Singers in the earth and the Greenseer in the roots. I have heard your whispers in the wind. I have felt your power in the soil. You brought me here, a soul from another world, and you gave me these gifts."

He knelt, pressing his palms flat against the roots of the tree. He closed his eyes, not in prayer, but in focus. He pushed his consciousness down, through the roots, through the stone, following the ley lines of power that crisscrossed Westeros. He was a signal, flaring in the dark, seeking a receiver.

I am here. I am listening. Speak to me. He thought guide me

For a long time, there was only the vast, empty silence of the deep earth. Then, a presence. It was immense, ancient, and weary, like a mountain that had learned to think. It noticed his flicker of consciousness, not with surprise, but with a slow, tectonic curiosity.

"I seek the Greenseer. I seek the one who sees from the roots." Erik muttered

A voice, dry as autumn leaves and deep as a root-choked well, echoed not in his ears, but in the core of his being.

'You are a root that has broken through from another soil. A graft upon our ancient and vast web of trees. Why have you come to the deep grove?'

'I was planted here by a hand I cannot see. I have been given water and sun, but I do not know toward which sky I am to grow. I have power, but no purpose. I need to know what you want from me.' Erik replied

'Brace yourself' the voice intoned 'Behold'

Images flooded his mind, swift and brutal. A Wall of ice, bleeding cold. Blue eyes shining in a blizzard. A great winter, never ending, that would extinguish all song and memory. He felt the immense, crushing weight of the task to come.

The Cold breathes upon the world. The song of life is its enemy. You are a new verse, unwritten. Unbound by the old rhymes. You can see the pattern from outside the loom.

'So I am a weapon? To be used against the Cold ones?' Erik thought

'A weapon? No. A weapon is a dead thing, wielded by another. I offer you a choice. To be a champion. To be a vessel for the memory of the earth, a warden of the green and growing things. The power you hold is a sapling. It can become a forest… or it can wither and stagnate by living your peaceful life in this village and later dying naturally of old age'

A choice. It was more than he had hoped for.

'And if I choose this? If I pledge myself as your champion, as the champion of the Earth and the Old Gods of this land? What then?' Erik wondered.

The presence seemed to sharpen, to focus on him with the intensity of a thousand watching eyes.

Then the pact is sealed. Your sight will pierce the veils of dream and time. The strength of the stone and the endurance of the ironwood will be in your bones. But a champion must be bound to his purpose. A sigil of covenant, for the world to see and for you to remember.

Erik did not hesitate.

'I accept the pact. I will be your champion. I will shepherd these people to a better life. I will stand against the cold and the silence. Let my life be a verse in the great song' Erik declared

'So be it'

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a surge of power, raw and green and ancient, flooded up from the earth through his kneeling form. It was painful and overwhelming, like becoming a river after being a stream. He felt his senses expand; he could hear the worms burrowing deep beneath him, feel the thirst of the trees for miles around.

And then, a sensation like cool, tracing ivy began to bloom on his skin. He felt it start at his fingertips and the soles of his feet—a faint, tingling energy that began to travel inward. Along his arms and legs, fine, intricate lines of powerful runes etched themselves into his flesh, a network of runic script too swift and complex for his eyes to follow. He felt a single, delicate line trace up the nape of his neck, branching subtly across his scalp beneath his hair, a hidden crown of power. All the lines, thin and shimmering with a faint emerald light, converged in a silent, focused rush towards the center of his chest, right over his heart. There was a final, soft pulse of warmth, and the sensation ceased.

The presence began to recede.

'Go then, Champion. The long night is far away but it is coming. Remember your vow. We are watching. We will be sending a few singers or as you call them children of the forest your way. They have help you many ways'

The connection snapped. Erik was back in the Godswood, on his knees, panting. The world seemed brighter, sharper, more alive. He looked at his hands. At first glance, his skin seemed unmarked. But as he turned his wrist to the dappled light, he saw them: thin, elegant lines like veins of emerald, tracing from his fingernails up his forearm. They were not raised like scars, but seemed to be within the skin, glowing with a subtle, inner light. He pulled open his tunic. On his chest, over his heart, the converging lines formed a complex, circular knot of runes, pulsing softly with a steady, verdant rhythm.

He stood, a new strength in his limbs. He no longer felt like he was a lost soul. He was Erik, the Rune marked, the Champion of the Weir wood. The paths of power were now written on his very flesh. And he had a near savage group people to uplift and eventually a war to prepare for.

New sensations were being felt by him. He flet as if he was connected to everything in nature, to the ear, to the sky, to the sea. He could feel more energy coursing through him. He could also sense all life around him for some distance like a radar.

The emerald runes on his chest were a cool, constant pressure against his skin, a reminder of the covenant that now bound him. The power that hummed within him felt deeper, more settled, like a river that had found its true bed. His purpose was no longer a question; it was a path laid out before him, and the first steps began here, in the familiar places.

'And I know just the perfect place to start' Erik thought

He found his way to the village paddock, the scent of hay, horse, and damp earth a welcome anchor after the dizzying heights of the godswood. His eyes went immediately to his trusty mare, Luna. Her coat, the color of a moonlit cloud, seemed to glow in the afternoon light. She whickered softly in greeting, trotting to the fence and nudging his chest with her velvety nose, right over the pulsing runes. He felt a thrum of connection, deeper than before—a thread of understanding that passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of the change in him.

"That's right, girl," he murmured, running his hands along her neck. "It's still me."

It was then he saw the other horse. A tall, old stallion, his once-dark coat now heavily flecked with grey, his frame still proud but lean with age. He stood a respectful distance away, but his ears were pricked forward, watching Luna and Erik with a quiet, intelligent interest. There was no aggression, only a kind of weary companionship.

He was the reason Erik was here today after all. The chief's old stallion. The only other horse in the entire village.

"Who's your friend?" Erik asked Luna, scratching behind her ears. "Is he good?"

He opened his senses, not just with his eyes, but through the new, green-tinged awareness the weirwood had granted him. He felt the bond between the two horses—not the fiery passion of young mates, but a deep, settled affection. A companionship of two solitary souls who had found comfort in each other. Luna's emotional accent in his mind was one of contentment, of peaceful acceptance.

She likes him, he realized. She's not lonely anymore.

An idea, brilliant and fully formed, blossomed in his mind. It was more than a thought; it was a blueprint, delivered on a wave of instinctual understanding from his enhanced powers.

He looked at the old stallion, truly looked at him. He saw the ghost of the powerful warhorse he must have been, the strength in his bones, the dignity in his bearing, all shackled by the relentless decay of age.

Why stop at healing? the idea whispered. Why not renew?

He would not just heal this old stallion. He would rejuvenate him. He would scour the age from his cells, reverse the decay in his joints, stoke the dimmed fire of his vitality into a roaring blaze. He would craft him into a young, powerful stallion, a true match for Luna in spirit and body. A partner for her, and a sire for a new, stronger generation of horses for the Free Folk.

And he would do it here, in the open, for all to see.

This would be his first true miracle as the Runemarked. Not merely healing but a public act of creation. A show of power so profound it would shatter their understanding of what was possible. It was a message, not to the horses, but to every man and woman watching: The old gods have a new champion and I hold the power to defy the chaos and the long winters. Even the decay of age itself.

"Stay here, Luna," he said softly, his voice firm with newfound resolve.

He would not just heal this old stallion. He would rejuvenate him. He would scour the age from his cells, reverse the decay in his joints, stoke the dimmed fire of his vitality into a roaring blaze. He would craft him into a young, powerful stallion, a true match for Luna in spirit and body.

And he would do it here, in the open, for all to see.

He spotted a young stable boy, one of his older students, Torbjorn, gaping at him from the fence. "Torbjorn!" Erik called, his voice cutting through the quiet. Torbjorn jumped. "Run along now and go and fetch Chief Frode and the elders. Tell them to come quickly. What happens next, they must see for themselves."

The boy didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled away, his feet kicking up puffs of dust as he sprinted toward the longhouse.

Erik turned back to the old stallion. He would wait. Let the audience assemble. Let the anticipation build. He stood calmly, a hand on Luna's neck, feeling the buzz of confusion and excitement spread through the villagers who were already gathering. By the time Chief Frode, Helga, Gonir, one eye korb, Grumpy Agnar, the grizzled old Ullar and the other elders arrived, a small crowd had formed, their murmurs a low, anxious hum.

Frode's brow was furrowed. "Erik? What is it? The boy said it was urgent. Is my horse sick again? "

"It is urgent and Thor is fine. In fact, he's why I have gathered you all here" Erik said, his voice calm but carrying. "You have all seen me heal wounds. You have seen me grow a house from a tree. But the power granted to me goes deeper than that. The long harsh winter that consumes all life, that feeds on decay and weakness. To stand against it, we must be able to defy decay itself."

He gestured to the old stallion. "This loyal heart is shackled by time. Watch now, as I break those shackles."

The paddock fell completely silent.

Erik placed his hands on the stallion's flank, the runes on his own arms beginning to glow with a faint, pulsating green light. He closed his eyes.

He saw it all—the arthritic joints, the clouding eyes, the tired heart. It was a map of entropy. And Erik began to redraw it.

'It's easier to wield my powers now' Erik thought marveling at the ease 'and much more power efficient and smooth as well. I can do twice maybe three times more than before.'

"What is the Green Man doing with Old Thor?" Elder Agnar muttered angrily "That horse can barely pull a cart. Is he going to put him down?"

Erik ignored them. He placed his hands on the stallion's flank, the runes on his own arms seeming to pulse in sync with the animal's labored heartbeat. He closed his eyes and dove inward.

He saw it all—the arthritic joints, the clouding eyes, the tired heart, the muscles withered by time. It was a map of entropy. And Erik began to redraw it.

He didn't just accelerate the body's natural healing; he commanded it to remember. He found the pristine, youthful template encoded deep within the stallion's cells and, with a surge of power that made the runes on his chest flare with visible green light, he imposed that memory upon its present form.

Gasps erupted from the crowd as the visible transformation began...

Before their eyes, the grey hairs began to darken, melting away into a rich, glossy bay. The sagging flesh tightened, sculpting itself over suddenly swelling muscle. The stallion shuddered, a deep, full-body tremor, and let out a sharp, powerful snort. His spine straightened, his head lifted high, and a fiery light returned to his eyes. The knobbly joints in his legs smoothed out, the hooves that had been chipped and worn regrew strong and dark. The transformation was not silent; it was accompanied by the soft, wet sounds of reshaping tissue and the crackle of energy that made the air smell of ozone and fresh-turned earth.

In less than a minute, it was done.

Where Old Thor had stood, there was now a magnificent stallion in his prime. He tossed his magnificent head, his mane and tail flowing like black silk, his body a monument of equine power. He pranced in place, his energy boundless, before turning to nuzzle Erik's hand with a force that was entirely new.

The paddock was utterly silent, save for the stallion's excited breathing and Luna's soft, approving whicker.

Then Gonir's voice, cracked with awe, broke the silence. "By all the gods... he didn't just heal him. He... un-aged him."

Erik turned to face the stunned villagers. His gaze swept over them, but he specifically sought out the older faces—the grizzled hunters whose reflexes were slowing, the weavers whose eyesight was failing, the elders who sat by the fire waiting for the end. He saw the dawning, impossible hope in their eyes.

"This power," Erik announced, his voice carrying clearly, "is a gift from the earth, from the Old Gods who see that things must change and are willing to become part of the change. It is not just for mending wounds. It is for forging strength."

He patted the rejuvenated stallion's powerful neck. "Age is a cage. I have the key." He let his words hang in the air, watching the idea take root. "I am leaving this village soon. My path leads me to all the Free Folk, to unite them, heal them, to defend the weak, and bring them prosperity. It is a task too great for one man."

He looked directly at an old, one-eyed hunter named Korb, who had once been the village's finest tracker. He'd refused to get his eye healed "I need wisdom. I need skill. I need those who remember the old ways and have the strength to teach them again."

He saw the understanding flash in Korb's single, keen eye. The offer was unspoken but clear: I can give you back your youth, your strength, your purpose. In exchange, you leave this comfort and follow me on my adventure.

Erik turned and walked back to Luna, leaving the rejuvenated stallion—a living, breathing miracle—as his argument. The seed had been planted. He had shown them a future where the winter of their lives could be spring again. Now, he would see who was brave enough, or desperate enough, to reach for it.

He looked directly at the older faces in the crowd—the grizzled hunters whose reflexes were slowing, the weavers whose eyesight was failing. He let his gaze rest finally on the two most respected elders: Gonir and Helga.

He saw the understanding flash in their eyes. The offer was unspoken but clear. He decided to make it explicit, starting with the two he trusted most. He nodded to them and they nodded back.

He left the paddock and the villagers there.

'Let them think it over' Erik thought 'See who's interested'

Author's Note:

If you want to support my writing and get exclusive pre-release ACCESS TO THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS of the story, consider becoming a Patron of this work.
You also get access to the pictures, information sources, music, and videos that I consulted with or that inspired me during the writing process
To Become a Patron Visit: pat reon dot com /Hordac Fics

 

[Hordac]

Chapter 9

Two days later Gonir and Helga came to him while everyone was gathered for dinner by the hearth wishing to be rejuvenated to their youths again.

"Gonir. Helga," he said, gaining their full attention. The crowd fell silent, listening intently. "Tell me, why would you want to be young again?"

They looked at each other, and Erik could see a whole conversation pass between them in that single look. Helga gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, gesturing for Gonir to speak first.

The old carpenter and shipwright stepped forward and the familiar showman's flourish was gone. His shoulders, usually set for a punchline, were now squared with a weight Erik had never seen in him

"Laddie," A soft smile touched Gonir's lips, smoothing the deep wrinkles around his eyes.

"Oh, I have lived a long life. A loooong and fruitful life. A life made of splinters and sawdust and crying babes and winters that stole half my hair. Good times, tough but good"

He giggled, then sobered in an instant.

"But inside me?" — he tapped his chest hard — "Inside me there are still boats I have not built! Dreams I never carved! Ideas that came to me like shy spirits… and I never chased them, no! Because I was busy feeding mouths, patching roofs, building boats and keeping our village alive in the unforgiving winter years"

He spread his hands, wiggling his fingers as if releasing invisible birds, his eyes gleaming with a fire Erik had never seen before.

"Now all my children are grown up and they continue my work. My woman has gone to the old gods and probably complains to them about my snoring even now… so why shouldn't I build again? Why shouldn't I make ships so big they frighten the waves? Ships the kneelers boast about in their stone towns!"

His grin sharpened.

"I want to see the world, Erik. Always have. I want to see what strange and wonderful things other hands have shaped. Before my bones become dust."

"That does sound interesting," Erik said, nodding with genuine respect. "I can also help you in the designing and building of ships. We could create something new, something the world has never seen." He then turned to the elderly woodswitch. "And you, Helga? What would you do?"

All eyes turned to her. She stood straight, her flinty eyes sweeping over the assembled villagers before settling on Erik.

"You all know I sometimes get prophetic dreams," she stated, her voice dry but strong. Seeing the nods of confirmation from those around her, she continued. "A month before you arrived, I had a dream. In it, I saw a figure dressed in green, riding atop a great stag. He was glowing from an inner light, and I could hear the winds whispering that this was the champion, the chosen of the old gods." She locked her gaze with Erik's, her flinty eyes locked with his, and Erik felt the force of her conviction like a physical push.

"And it shows" she said "all you've ever done is help. It is simply who you are and it would be an honor to serve you"

"You ask me what I would do?" She asked "It is obvious. I would follow you wherever you would go, for you are the Old god's Chosen. You are their light that will guide us out of the dark we live in"

A reverent murmur rippled through the crowd. Erik realized her testimony was more powerful than any miracle. He saw it in their eyes; her testimony was weaving his arrival into the fabric of their destiny.

Erik looked from Gonir's rekindled ambition to Helga's unwavering faith. The first stones of his foundation had been laid.

He turned without another word and walked back to his treehouse. Behind him, the silence was thick, heavy with the future he had just offered them.

Erik didn't need to look back to know they were watching him—seeing not a stranger, but the seed of something vast, something dangerous, something holy.

Now he would see which souls in this worn-down village were brave enough—or desperate enough—to water it.

The seed had been planted. Now, he would see which souls in this worn-down village were brave enough, or desperate enough, to water it.

----

Word had run through the village like sparks through dry moss, Erik the old gods' champion, the life weaver would grant youth to the old carpenter and the witch of the woods. Some whispered in awe, others in fear, and some in envy.

When dawn came, pale and cold and quiet, mist clinging low to the earth, lit faintly by the rising sun.

Gonir, Helga and Erik stood in front of the weeping heart tree surrounded by almost all the villagers.

'These people seriously lack forms of entertainment' Erik thought equally amuseda and annoyed 'Who would've thought the whole village would come to watch. All they're missing is popcorn and sodas in hand'

He turned his attention to the task at hand and looked at the two elderly standing before him.

"You're both sure?" Erik asked Gonir and Helga

Gonir nodded at once, eyes bright with a wild, almost childlike intensity.
"Aye," he said, voice lilting with that odd, eager tremor he always had. "Let's see what threads you pluck from the loom of life today, eh?"

Helga only gave a thin, knowing smile.
"Champion," she murmured, "I was sure the moment I saw you turn old Thor into a swaggering young stallion again."

Erik took a steadying breath.

Erik mentally called Hakuna and his mate to the clearing. The villagers parted and cleared a path for them. People pointed curiously at the bulging shapes that hung from their backs. They stopped near Erik who pulled a pair of brain dead dear off their backs.

"I will need sacrifice for this" Erik said loudly pointing at the deers "The deer are freshly caught and their life force will be needed to rejuvenate Gonir and Helga. Gonir lie down on the ground"

Then, softer to Gonir he said "Lie down and stay still. Do not resist anything you feel. And try not to move."

Gonir swallowed but nodded and lied down.

Erik raised his hands and put one on Gonir and the other on a deer.

Erik mentally mapped the old man's body—bone, sinew, the tired heart that had hammered through seventy winters, the lungs that had tasted brine and smoke, the joints worn thin by tools and storms.

Then Erik started reversing the damage done to the DNA and repaired its capacity to fix them. Alongside that he started repairing and replacing all the damaged old cells and tissues and muscles making them young and vibrant again.

And as he rejuvenated more of Gonir's body, the deer on the other hand shriveled and dried.

The old man gasped.

His spine straightened as if a great weight had been pulled off him. The liver-spots on his hands faded. Muscles tightened. His breath grew deeper, fuller.

His Bald head grow hair darkened by slow degrees, steel-grey deepening into the rich brown of his youth. Wrinkles smoothed like softened clay. The stoop that had shadowed his walk for twenty years evaporated.

When it was over, Gonir staggered, staring at his own hands as if they belonged to another.

"By the old gods! I feel like someone put fire in my veins!" Erik proclaimed happily

Erik steadied him. "Careful. Your balance will return in a moment. Your body remembers how to be young faster than your mind does."

Gonir stared at his hands, his face splitting into a wild, boyish grin.

"Oooh! Oooh-ho-ho! Look at this! Look at ME!"

He flexed, then hopped once—actually hopped—like a mad heron.

"By the trickster gods! By the laughing gods! I feel like someone put fire in my veins!"

He struck a dramatic pose.

"I AM GONIR THE YOUNG AGAIN! The waves will fear me, the trees will shudder at my approach, and the nails—oh the nails! —will once again bow before my hammer in a single strike!"

Gonir laughed—an unrestrained, incredulous bark of joy. He punched the air, marveling at the strength in his arm.

Helga's eyes glimmered with reflected light.

"My turn then," she said.

Erik turned to her, but paused.

"Helga… are you certain you want this?" Erik asked one final time

"I am old," she replied. "I have lived long enough to know what I want. And I will not follow you on brittle bones."

He nodded. She lied down in front of him

Putting one hand on her and the other on the last deer, he repeated the process

As before everyone as the deer shriveled and dried, Helga's skin flushed with warmth. Her breath hitched. The years fell away from her like leaves in a thaw.

The stoop in her back straightened. Her silver hair deepened to storm-grey, then further still into a dark blond touched only faintly with white. Her cheeks filled out; the hard lines of age softened, then vanished entirely, reshaping her into a woman untouched by the grinding weight of years.

She stood tall—big-boned, broad-shouldered, and undeniably powerful. She was neither beautiful not ugly just looked full of energetic vitality.

When Erik finished, Helga opened her eyes.

They were the same flinty blue—but sharper now. Alive.

She pressed her palms together, inhaled deeply, and smiled a small, dangerous smile.
"Ah," she murmured. "I remember this."

Gonir barked a laugh. "Hel! You look like you're about to charm a bear!"

He circled around her, gawking, hands flying in wild gestures.

"Ohhh, the years have run away from you like frightened goats! If you smile too wide, you'll summon spring!"

She nudged him lightly and he stumbled back three steps.

"HA! See? I knew it! Too strong! This is going to be fun."

They both erupted into laughter like two children who had just shared a secret joke.

Erik stepped back, letting them bask in their returned youths.

Gonir flexed his hands. "I could build a dozen ships! We'll travel the world and see its wonders!"

Helga lifted her chin. "And I could walk to the ends of the earth behind our gods' champion."

Erik felt their gratitude like heat on his skin, but he also felt the weight of it. Promises. Expectations. Futures shifting.

What he had done could not be undone.

He looked at them—reborn, renewed, ready for the world—and spoke quietly:

"Do not waste this. I didn't give you back the years to repeat the same ones."

Helga placed a hand on his arm, gentle but sure.

"We won't." Helga replied seriously." How can they be wasted now with you to lead us as the old gods will it. Gonir?" she asked her newly rejuvenated friend.

"Oh, don't you worry, Erik-the-death stopper. We will not waste anything. No, no, no…"

He tapped Erik's chest gently with a single finger.

"You have given us time. And time my friend is the most dangerous gift of all." He grinned, sharp and bright. "We will build your future. And mine. And hers. And maybe even something so strange the gods themselves will be forced to take notice"

Erik exhaled, tension slipping from his shoulders.

"Good. Then go. Let the village see you." Erik replied "And after that start getting preparations done to leave the village"

"When do we leave?" Helga asked

"We still have some time. A week maybe more. I have some things I want to do for the village" Erik replied

----

The next day, Erik found Chief Frode outside his longhouse, making arrows while the morning mist curled low around the village. Unfortunately, Elder Agnar and Ullar, Captain of the village were also there.

The old warriors glanced up as Erik approached.

"You've that look again," Frode grunted. Ullar nodded

"What look?" Eik asked

"The look that means you've got some crazy idea" Chief sighed "the look that means more headache for me as some of them stubborn old coots in the elder council hate whatever change you want to bring"

Erik smiled. "For their benefit, this time. I want to begin a project—one that will help the village for years to come."

Frode set the half-finished arrow aside. "Go on then. Tell me what new miracle you are about to perform"

"No miracle. It's Just knowledge. I want to teach your people how to make salt," Erik said. "Our own salt. Not traded in bits and handfuls form the crows at East watch castle but made here form the sea water."

Elder Agnar's brows rose. "Salt? From the sea? Madness"

"Exactly from the sea. Isn't the sea water salty? It's because it has salt in it. We just need to remove the water. It's simple, but it takes time and effort. If you allow it, I'll show them how. But I'll need hands—volunteers. A few strong backs who can listen and work."

Frode eyed him for a long moment, stroking his beard. "You're telling me you can pull salt out of seawater like a wizard conjures fire."

"No magic," Erik said. "Just knowledge. And it will mean better food, better trade, and better winters."

A slow grin tugged at the chief's face. "You've healed and saved people here, given us venison that your beasts bring in daily enough to feed everyone. You've taught our children letters and while I don't get why they need it, if the kids are happy and are kept busy that's good enough for me."

"And now you want to teach us how to pull salt out of seawater." The Old Chief stated " Why do all this for us? What's in it for you"

'Why is he asking these questions now? This so is unlike him. Something's not right" Erik thought as he assessed the situation looking at Chief Frode, Elder Agnar and Captain Ullar reading their body language before coming to a conclusion swiftly.

'I see it now' Erik thought 'the Chief's asking these questions to quell the doubts and whispers that are being spread in the village, most likely by Elder Agnar and his friends. He's hoping I could quell some of the doubts'

"It's quite simple really" Erik replied "The way you have lived and survived for centuries might have been good enough up until now but it's not enough for the challenges of the grim future. The old gods see this and have sent me as their champion, as their voice if you will to reward all their loyal followers knowledge to build a better and stronger future. Applying that knowledge means thins will have to change."

"Hah! Fair enough." Frode stood with a grunt pointed ignoring the glaring Agnar "Very well. You'll have your helpers."

"Who will you send me?" Erik asked

Frode tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You'll have One eyed Korb—he's old but steady enough. He'll help keep everyone pointed in the right direction. And old Hrolf the fisherman, because he's smart and listens better than most. He will learn it best"

He paused, then added, "Runa as well, if she'll go. Sharp mind on that one, and she works harder than half the men, especially after you fixed her hunch back and deformity…. she fancies you now, you know"

Erik nodded. Runa was a hunchback young woman with facial deformities. She had dark hair and violet eyes. She had approached him and begged to be made normal. He's fixed her and to everyone's surprise she turned out to be gorgeous and beneath that shy awkward demeanor was a hardworking and intelligent young woman. His scans of her body also indicated that too had the potential to wield magic.

'Viollet eyes, magical potential. Possible Valyrian descent' he thought 'though I did take some guilty pleasure in tweaking her face to match another fictional character I know of' Erik thought briefly before returning hiss focus to the conversation.

Erik nodded. "That's three. I think I'll need a few more"

"You'll need hands for this," Elder Agnar said. "Strong ones. Hard-working ones." His eyes gleamed with false helpfulness. "Chief! Why not take those three young men?" at his questioning gaze he elaborated "Bjorni, Kalf, and little Torfi"

Chief Forde raised a brow. "Them? They barely manage their own chores."

Agnar shrugged innocently. "Then this is a chance for them to… learn discipline."

Erik met Agnar's gaze. He recognized a trap when he saw one—but he also recognized opportunity.

"Very well," he said. "I'll take them."

Erik knew the trio of troublemakers Bjorni the loudmouth, little Torfi the sneak, and Kalf the would-be jokester.

"Those three smart devils—Bjorni, Kalf, and little Torfi. Barely old enough to shave, yet old enough to ignore every chore given to them." Frode shook his head. "They skip their work then go stir up trouble in every corner of the village, and I swear by the gods they think mischief is a sacred duty."

Erik tried not to smile. "And you want me to take them?"

"Aye," Agnar said firmly "If anyone can turn their energy into something useful, it'll be you. And if nothing else, the sea might tire them out enough to give everyone a quiet evening."

Erik folded his arms, considering. "They won't want to dig salt pans. Not willingly."

"No they won't" Chief Frode said grinning ."Then you'll have to make them want to."

Erik let out a low breath. "So, three strong backs, no discipline, and a talent for chaos. Two old men and a young woman"

"That's the lot," Agnar said with mock sincerity, as if presenting a challenge that was impossible to accomplish

A faint, amused smile crept across Erik's face. "All right. I'll take them. But when they come complaining, don't blame me."

Frode barked a laugh. "Ha! I get plenty of complaint about them every day. I'd welcome a change of tune."

The chief clapped him on the shoulder with a heavy, approving hand. "They'll meet you at the shore tomorrow. Good luck getting them to work."

"I'll manage," Erik said, though he knew he'd just inherited more trouble than labor.

Frode nodded once, pleased. "I've come to trust your strange ideas, Erik. Let's see if you can tame those boys"

Early next morning Erik led half a dozen villagers and led them down to the tideline. The group trailed behind him with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, boots sinking into the damp sand. Even the three troublemakers—Bjorni, Kalf, and little Torfi—skulked after the others, wearing matching looks of boredom that fooled no one.

Erik stopped where the long waves licked the sandy flats. His wolf padded quietly at his side, pale eyes watchful. Kahuna, the towering stag, stood a little farther back, antlers catching the morning light like blades.

"Here," Erik said, planting the heel of his staff into the wet ground. "This is where I'll teach you—and where we'll make our own salt."

The villagers exchanged looks. Salt was something they traded for, begged for, sometimes fought over. To make it themselves sounded like sorcery.

One eyed Korb frowned. "From the sea?"

"From the sea," Erik said with a small smile. "The sea gives everything if you know how to ask. And we're going to ask properly."

He knelt and began drawing shallow pools and channels into the wet sand. Old Hrolf leaned in. Runa crouched closer, studying the shapes with interest. The three boys hovered behind them, whispering.

Bjorni nudged Kalf whispering. "Bet we can slip away once they start digging."

Kalf grinned. "Aye. Before we're dragged into—"

A sudden, low rumble made both boys freeze. Erik's wolf had stepped up behind them, staring with flat, unimpressed eyes.

Little Torfi squawked, "We weren't gonna do nothing!"

Erik didn't look up. "Good. Then you'll stay and learn something useful today."

Torfi muttered, "You saw that thing's teeth?"
"Work," the wolf seemed to say with its stare alone.

Erik continued drawing. "We'll build pans here—low, wide, and flat. The sun does most of the work. Tide fills them, warmth dries them. Water leaves, salt stays."

A murmur rippled through the group.

Runa folded her arms, her voice rich in new confidence
"So simple," she said, "yet no one here thought of it. Fascinating." "So simple," Erik replied. "But simple doesn't mean easy."

Behind them, Kalf tried to wander off toward the dunes.

Kahuna let out a resonant snort and lowered his magnificent antlers in his direction— and stomped a hoof hard

Kalf nearly fell over. "I—I was just stretching!"

Bjorni grabbed him by the tunic. "Don't move unless he tells us to! That beast will toss you into the sea!"


"You may stretch later" Runa smirked, her tone velvet and sharp "when we aren't watching you blunder about like startled poultry. Now focus on Life weaver's words"

For a moment, the villagers stared at the drawn shapes in the sand, as though glimpsing quiet magic.

Then One eyed Korb rolled up his sleeves. "Well then… where do we start?"

Erik stood, brushing sand from his hands. "First? We dig."

The villagers set to work. Some eager. Some curious. And the three boys—kept firmly in line by one watchful wolf and one giant stag—begrudgingly dug as well.

Every time Bjorni slowed, the wolf huffed behind him.

Every time Torfi tried to sneak a handful of wet sand at someone, Kahuna's shadow loomed over him.

Every time Kalf muttered rebellion, Erik simply looked at him—and the boy went silent.

Together they carved the first salt pans into the shoreline—building not only shallow basins in the sand, but the first lesson in responsibility for three young mischief-makers… under the very firm supervision of tooth and antler.

Runa, Hrolf's dark-haired daughter, lingered close, her eyes bright with interest. "You think of things no one else ever has," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Makes a girl wonder what else you can teach."

Erik chuckled, pretending not to notice the way she was watching him. "Plenty. But one thing at a time."

She leaned in just a little. "Then I hope you're patient with slow learners."

"You haven't seemed slow so far," he replied, keeping his voice light.

Runa smiled at that—slow, pleased, and very deliberate. She turned to look at the pans

"In the pans we just dug… the salt will just appear?" she asked, though her tone made it sound less like a question and more like an invitation for him to keep talking.

"In time," Erik answered, grinning. "But first—fill it with seawater."

Buckets splashed as they hauled the cold brine from the surf. Soon the pit shimmered with trapped water, glittering under the sun. Erik stood, brushing sand from his palms.

"Let the sun and wind work for us. When the water dries, the salt will remain."

The group went quiet. Then excited whispers broke out.

"Will this truly work?" Kalf asked.

"Hush!" Hrolf hissed. "Erik's a clever one—and champion of the gods. If he says salt will come, then it will. Have Faith!"

Runa drifted to Erik's side again. "Clever and modest," she said softly. "Dangerous combination."

He glanced at her. "Dangerous how?"

Her smile widened. "Makes it terribly hard to look anywhere else."

Before he could reply, the three idiots splashed each other with seawater and mud, breaking the moment. The villagers worked the rest of the morning shaping and filling a dozen new pans. By midday, a pale crust had already begun forming at the edges of the first pit.

Author's Note:

If you want to support my writing and get exclusive pre-release ACCESS TO THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS of the story, consider becoming a Patron of this work.

You also get access to the pictures, information sources, music, and videos that I consulted with or that inspired me during the writing process

To Become a Patron Visit: pat reon dot com /Hordac Fics

 

[Hordac]

Chapter 10

Erik spent the next few days doing his regular daily task while he waited for the water to dry out in the salt pans. He taught at the school, gave extra lessons to Ainar and the older students, made a couple of primer books for reading , writng and doing sums. He taught Sven archery and horse back riding on his trusty mare Luna who was now pregnant. He made sure she was carrying twins and kept them all healthy and strong.

'I could just clone her' he thought 'but I don't want to go such extreme measures yet. One thing I have in abundance is time as canon events are centuries away''

He also experimented with making armor using a combination of materials like spider web, carbon firbe, resins, bones, sea shells and leather. So far, the results were unsatisfying but he kept trying.

Every other day he would venture out into the surrounding forests where he would spend some quality time bonding with his animal companions, foraging for edible seeds that he would enhance and plant in the village and look for interesting new animals to add to his group. He'd added an owl, a pair of snow leopard and some elks during the past week.

A few days later, they gathered again at the beach to see the fruits of their efforts

One eyed Korb whistled looking at the salt "That's more salt than any we've traded form the Crows at Eastwatch castle."

Erik nodded toward the beach. "We'll make more. Enough to last us through winter."

Runa stepped beside him, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear with deliberate grace. "If this continues, my father will insist you've enchanted the sea itself."

"It's knowledge, not magic, Runa," Erik laughed. "Tell him the sun does the work."

She gave him a sidelong look, lashes half-lowered. "Mm. If you say so. Though you have a talent for making the impossible look routine." Her tone turned velvet-smooth. "You're rather… impressive, Erik. Irritatingly so."

"Brilliant, am I? "Erik tilted his head, a slow smile forming. "Careful, Runa. Keep praising me like that and I'll think you're trying to charm me."

Runa's lips curled slyly as her violet eyes shone wickedly in amusement "And if I were? Would that really be such a terrible fate for you?" Her voice was teasing with the confidence of someone who already knows the answer. "Would that truly bother you?"

"It won't bother me at all" He said as a faint grin tugged at his mouth. "In fact, I'd say it's easy to look brilliant when someone like you is watching so closely."

They held each other's gaze—hers sharp, challenging, but undeniably warm.

A moment later, One-eyed Korb cleared his throat loudly. "Ahem! But what will we do with so much salt, Life-Weaver?"

"Now that we have salt, I can teach you the numerous ways it is useful" Erik replied

"But that," Erik said with a small, knowing smile, "I will show you tomorrow. For now, let's store this bounty. We don't want it sitting out her in the open for too long."

Runa lingered in front of him, her voice dropping to a soft, dangerous murmur. "If you're promising wonders, then don't disappoint me." Her violet eyes glittered. "Tomorrow, Erik."

She turned away with a swirl of her dark braid, leaving Erik smiling after her.

The villagers packed the salt happy to have so much and marveling at the ease of acquiring it.

Salt—clean, free, theirs.

Later that evening, as the last baskets of salt were carried toward storage, Erik found old Hrolf the master fisherman untangling a net. The fisherman was muttering to himself about torn nets and no one helping him fix them.

Erik crouched beside him and began working the knots loose as he started a conversation. After exchanging some pleasantries, he got the topic he wanted to talk about.

"A few days ago, I heard you telling Runa about great black shapes you'd glimpsed two days prior" Erik asked

"Aye big monsters the lot of them all black and white" He groused "Tore one of my nets clean through to get at the fish. Curse them."

"Dou you remember where you saw them?" Erik asked he last knot came free, and he let the net drop to the ground.

Hrolf looked up, squinting. "Near the Black Shoal. Why?"

"Because I need to go there," Erik replied. "Tomorrow. And I want you to take me along with your whole fishing team"

"Lad, they're predators. Not something you row toward," Hrolf snorted. "Besides, no one hunts them. If you try to kill one, they just dive deep and vanish. And even if you used your powers to kill them, they're too damn big for our boats."

Erik's expression didn't waver. "I'm not hunting them. I need to meet them. You know these waters better than anyone. And bring your widest nets."

"The big nets?" Hrolf blinked. "For what?"

"You'll understand when we get there," Erik said. "Trust me, Hrolf."

The old fisherman sighed, shook his head, even as he pushed himself upright. "Fine. You're the Champion, and the Chief's told everyone to help you when we can. But if we die, I'm haunting you."

Erik grinned. "I'll take my chances."

The next morning, Erik joined old fisherman Hrolf and his team of aboard four narrow fishing boats.

"Where did you see them last?" Erik asked "let's go there"

"Last I saw'em was out past the black shoal," Hrolf muttered as he pushed one set of oars while his daughter Runa pushed the other set "Two days ago. Big shapes. Real big. A pod of them"

"Orcas?" Erik asked

"Aye" Hrolf muttered.

They rowed until the cliffs faded into a thin grey line behind them and the water grew cold enough to bite through skin. Hrolf lifted his chin toward a stretch of unusually calm water.

"Here, they passed here last."

"Now we wait for them "Erik stated and so they waited.

Hours slipped by with only gulls crying overhead and the rhythmic slap of waves against the hulls. The sun climbed higher and higher until it hung directly above them at midday. Erik sat still, eyes half-closed, letting his senses sink beneath the surface. His new powers, gifts granted to him when he became Champion of the Old Gods reached outward like a living radar, searching for the sparks of life. He could sense every living thing for at least a mile around him and there was no sign of large killer whales.

And then just as he was about to quitm something new popped up on the radar.

He felt it: many ripples of presence, curious and enormous, brushing the edge of his mind. There was intelligence in these aquatic minds—and curiosity. His eyes snapped open.

"They're here," he whispered.

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later Shadows slid beneath the boat—smooth, dark, and impossibly graceful. Hrolf swore under his breath and reached for a harpoon. Erik gesture him to stop, stood and peeled off his cloak.

"Lad, what in the gods' names—?" Hrolf shouted in surprise.
But Erik didn't answer. He stepped to the edge, inhaled once, and dove.

With his power Erik easily created the webbed hands and feet along with gills to breath underwater.
The cold water should have hit him like a hammer, but the sea welcomed him all the same. Before the old god's gift, he might have been uncomfortable and wary. Now? Nature which included the waters felt familiar almost welcoming. He didn't feel the cold as much as he'd expected. He mentally reached out to the orcas sending warm and peaceful feelings.

The orcas circled him—not with the hunger of predators, but with the gentle caution of creatures unsure whether he was man or something more. They felt his gentle presence in their mind but their natural instinct told them not to worry. They felt something in him that was not entirely mortal, and their instinct told them they need not fear.

The lead mother approached, vast and powerful, her eyes turning toward him with unmistakable intelligence.

Erik reached out.

Peace, he sent—not a word, but a feeling shaped by thought and will.

The matriarch rumbled back, a deep vibration he felt more than heard. Curiosity. Recognition. Respect.

He pressed his palm to her rubbery skin. The world steadied.

You hunt here, he thought. Teach me how. Let us help each other.

Images flowed into his mind—circling fish, shimmering silver clouds, the tight spirals of a carousel hunt. The pod driving the school upward in perfect formation, timing every surge and dive with the precision of a warband.

He sent his own image in return: fishermen holding nets, pushing the trapped fish toward them, giving the orcas the first strike, the richest pick, the fattest catches.

A long silence. The mother's vast black eye blinked once.

Agreement.

She clicked sharply, and the entire pod reacted at once— a shifting wheel of motion and purpose. They dove, re-formed, and began to gather the first school of fish into a spinning, tightening cylinder of silver.

Erik surfaced just long enough to shout to Hrolf.
"Ready your nets! All four boat form a square and spread your biggest net a wide as you can"

"How will that catch fish?" one of the young fishermen asked in disbelief "The fish are deep in the water, not on the surface'"

"Idiot" Hrolf mutter bonking the speaker in the head "Just do as the Life weaver says"

The men scrambled, ropes flying, nets stretching wide atop the water. Then they watched—first skeptical, then stunned—as the sea erupted into organized frenzy as the killer whales herded fish directly toward their net, exactly where Erik had shown them.

"By the old gods…" Hrolf breathed.

And when the nets were full—fuller than any he had hauled in his entire life—the matriarch surfaced beside Erik pushing into him, her blow a gentle push. He touched her again, gratitude flowing between them like warm current.

the matriarch surfaced beside Erik. Her blow was soft, almost affectionate. He laid his hand on her again, gratitude flowing between them like a warm current.

"The first pick is yours," Erik murmured. "We have a pact"

The pod dove in, feasting on big mouthfuls of the fattest, richest fish at the heart of the school, exactly as he had promised.

------------

When they returned in the afternoon, their boats heavy with fish, the villagers erupted into cheers.

When the final tally was measured, even the elders—stone-faced grumpy men who had seen countless long winters and mercurous raids stood speechless. Piles of gleaming fish covered the stony beach, more than the village had ever harvested in a single day. Enough for a feast. Enough to trade. Enough to push winter back a few paces.

Someone shouted, "Bless the champion of the old gods!"

Another joined in, "Erik brings the sea's bounty!"

And then came the chanting—half-joking, half-serious:
"Erik! Erik! Erik!"
"Life-Weaver! Life-Weaver!"

Even Erik had to laugh as a group of children tried lifting him by the legs.

Chief Frode approached, scratching his beard. "A blessing… but too large a one. We can't eat this before it spoils."

"You're right" Erik nodded. "Then we'll preserve it. Properly."

Frode raised an eyebrow. "How? We don't; have that many smokehouses."

"We don't smoke this fish" Erik stated "We salt it"

"What do you mean salt it?" Forde asked

"Salting a fish is a methods that preserves a fish far longer than smoking it" Erik explained "Here I'll show you"

Erik clapped his hands sharply.

"Bring knives. Buckets. Clay jars. Wooden barrels. And all the salt. We work together."

They gathered tools while he chose a big flat rock as a table and lifted the first fish.

"Watch," he said.

He slid the knife cleanly from gills to belly, opened the fish with practiced ease, and removed the organs. The villagers leaned in—Runa right beside him, her arm brushing his.

"Rinse it," he instructed. A boy hurried forward with a bucket of water which he used to cleaned it thoroughly before drying it by using his powers to make the flesh let go of the water clinging to it.

"Now we use salt. lots of it" Erik explained

He grabbed a handful of coarse crystals from the drying pit and rubbed them inside the fish, firm and thorough, coating flesh and skin.

"I've used my powers to dry it after the rinsing. You'll have to let it dry a bit before salting it." Erid said " Salt draws out water. Keeps the fish from rotting for a year."

Runa nodded, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Efficient. And for once, not overly dramatic. I'm impressed."

"Next," Erik said ignoring Runa's sarcasm, placing the fish inside a clay jar, "we layer it."

He scattered salt across the bottom, placed the fish, and then poured more salt on top, burying it completely.

"Air is the enemy. Keep it sealed." Erik said "Now everyone please do as I say we'll have all this fish salted in no time"

Soon the villagers had formed a chain—gutters, cleaners, salters, packers, sealers. The beach transformed into a bustling workshop.

Children carried small bowls of salt. Women cleaned fish with swift, sure hands. Men hammered lids onto barrels.

Runa worked beside Erik the entire time, smiling whenever their hands brushed; he didn't miss the way some of the older women smirked knowingly.

By evening the shore was lined with rows of filled jars and barrels, each packed tight with salted fish. The villagers looked at their work with pride bordering on awe.

"We have enough for winter," someone said.

"Not just one winter. For two," another added.

"By the gods," Hrolf muttered, "we're rich. We'll never starve in the winters again"

"How long will it last?" someone asked

"It can last for several months, sometimes over a year" Erik replied "when properly packaged and stored."

Chief Frode stepped up beside him, crossing his arms as he surveyed the rows of preserved food.

"You've given us what no raider, no king beyond the Wall, no wandering merchant ever has," the chief said quietly. "Food security. Let this be a lesson to the naysayers and disbelievers."

Erik didn't answer. He only watched the villagers, laughing, working, thriving.

Now they have plenty of food to eat, store for winter, and trade with other villages, Erik thought, warmth rising in his chest. 'Hopefully that will convince the stubborn ones to be more accepting of the changes' he though before spying one of the villagers picking up a salted fish with two fingers and giving it a dubious look ' maybe not'

"I'm trying to help," Erik finally said to the chief. "This surplus of fish, and the salt we harvested, means we can salt and save even more. For winter. For lean days. And for trade."

"I know." Frode clapped him on the shoulder. "Just be ready. Many fear what they do not understand… even when it feeds them."

"You're right. I've tried to help here. But many people here don't like the change. They are too set in their ways. That's why I need to leave," Erik replied quietly. "The village is stronger than ever. It doesn't need me hovering around anymore. But there are others out there—villages, clans, families—who desperately need the help I gave here. I need a place where I can work and improve our lives freely"

Chief Frode's gaze drifted out toward the sea. He said nothing for a long while, weighing the words like stones in his palm. Finally, he exhaled.

"Aye." He nodded, though the movement was reluctant. "You're leaving this village in better shape than it has ever been. And… it will solve the problem I mentioned before."

He stroked his beard, lost in thought.

"Very well. Make your preparations. I'll see who I can convince to go with you. I'll start the old codgers. Either they die of old age in a couple of years or join you and you can make them young again"

His eyes sharpened. "But it won't be for free. You're taking working hands, people with trades even of their backs aren't strong enough anymore for hard work. That weakens us. I want something in return to even the odds. Especially when raiders come in the winter, when all the food on land is gone and they look to the coastal villages to raid"

Erik dipped his head respectfully. "I'll see what I can offer. Thank you for understanding."

Frode grunted, then softened. "I've known you wanted to leave for some time now. I've seen you restless and unsatisfied. Just don't stay away for too long. Come visit once in a while" he said before turning to the villagers and spoke loudly "Well? What are ye waiting for? All this fish that ain't salted isn't going to cook itself. Get to it you lazy louts. Tonight we feast and celebrate this bountiful food"

By evening, the fires blazed high. Fish roasted over the long pits, children darted around with greasy fingers, and the air was thick with smoke, salt, and the sweetness of berry wine from someone's "emergency stash."
The entire cliffside village had gathered beneath the open sky, celebrating like a people who believed—for the first time in a long while—that fortune might finally favor them.

Erik sat near one of the fires, sharing a drink with Gertrude and the fishermen, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"So," Runa said, hands on her hips, "remind me again how I did half the rowing, but you get all the chanting?"

Erik grinned. "Because you didn't dive into a pod of killer whales and convince them to catch fish. You just rowed… and rowed… and rowed again."

She snorted

She handed him a cup of wine and dropped onto the log beside him with the ease of someone who'd sat beside him many times before.

"Good haul," she said, clinking her cup lightly against his. "Not bad for a day's work"

"You saved my pa and brother a week of bad weather and empty nets," she said, handing him a cup of wine. "Maybe more". she said politely. Her eyes were full of admiration and hero-worship for him.

'Oh boy' Erik thought as he felt her lust for him and in turn he too felt attracted to the pretty brunette.


"The sea has plenty of food, Runa." Erik replied smiling "It wasn't me alone, The orcas—"

"—came because of you, Champion" she finished, her smile and the look in her violet eyes making his pulse quicken.

She stayed beside him the rest of the evening, moving closer as the fire burned low. They talked about nothing and everything—her dreams of seeing warmer lands, his quiet humor, her teasing remarks about how the little ones tried to imitate him by wearing branches and leaves as armor.

When it got late at night and couples drifted into the shadows and into the huts, she leaned in.

"You've done enough for the village today," she whispered. "Let someone thank you properly."

Erik raised an eyebrow, half teasing. "And who would that be?"

She gave him a meaningful look. "Me, obviously."

Before he could answer, she took his hand,lightly at first, then with quiet certainty, as though she feared he might pull away but hoped he wouldn't.

He didn't.

"Come," she whispered. "Before someone else steals you away."

"Doesn't the stealing thing happen the other way around?" He chuckled. "I doubt anyone would be interested."

"Then you'd be surprised," she said, smiling slyly. "Half the girls have been whispering about you for the past month."

She tugged him along the narrow path to his treehouse. Inside, the air felt warmer, heavy with the scent of pine and the lingering smoke from the fires below. Lanterns swung gently from the rafters, casting golden light that danced across her face, making her eyes shine like molten amber.

For a heartbeat, they simply looked at one another. The space between them thrummed with unspoken desire. Runa stepped closer, her fingers brushing his arm—light, teasing, yet deliberate.

"Erik…" she whispered her voice low, almost trembling. "You make hard things easy. Dangerous things… safe." Her hand lingered against his chest, tracing the steady beat of his heart. "You make me feel like tomorrow could be brighter… better… with you."

He caught her hand, pressing it gently to his chest, feeling the warmth of her skin seep into him. "And you," he said, brushing a thumb over her cheek, "make this place feel a little less lonely… and a lot more dangerous."

Runa's breath hitched, and her lips parted slightly. Heat radiated from her body as she moved closer, the soft brush of her hair against his face setting a fire in his chest. "I could stay here forever," she murmured. "Just like this."

Erik's hands traced the curve of her waist, lingering on the small of her back, pulling her just a fraction closer. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him as if afraid to let go.

Their faces drew nearer, breaths mingling, hearts racing in sync. Time seemed to stretch, the lantern light flickering across their skin, casting them both in gold. Slowly, deliberately, Erik leaned in, and Runa met him halfway.

Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, gentle at first, tasting and testing, before deepening naturally into something hotter, fuller. She pressed closer, and he responded in kind, wrapping his arms around her as if he could anchor himself in the warmth and desire radiating between them.

The world outside, the laughter, the smoke, the celebration faded completely. There was only the quiet, golden intimacy of the treehouse, and the first, perfect taste of something neither of them had expected but both had wanted all along.

Author's Note:

This chapter was harder for me to write as I just don't like writing heavy romantic scenes. I understand the need as I love reading it.

Anyway, I gave it my best shot. Let me know what you think. Too cheesy? Not enough? Comment.

And Another thing. I got in to a vigorous debate about the wildlings and their nomadic nature. I concede I have added a fishing village. Something that wasn't there in the original story. I theorized that while the majority of the feefolk are nomdic or semi nomadic , the coasts could and should be settled by people lacking food in winters. It just makes sense to me. If this makes the story AU hen so be it. I will definitely keep the rest of the freefolk a nomadic tribal bunch of near savages.

If you want to support my writing and get exclusive pre-release ACCESS TO THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS of the story, consider becoming a Patron of this work.

You also get access to the pictures, information sources, music, and videos that I consulted with or that inspired me during the writing process

As I'm trying to make this into a permanent source of income so I write MORE, I need your help in doing so. Join. Every dollar counts.

To Become a Patron Visit: pat reon dot com /Hordac Fics

 

[Hordac]

Ch 11

The Next Morning

Erik woke late, sunlight stabbing through the gaps in the wooden shutters and painting thin, bright lines across the room. Runa lay curled against him, breathing slow and even, her hair spilling over his chest like dark silk. She looked peaceful—utterly spent, utterly content.

He smiled despite himself.

Careful not to wake her, he shifted, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before easing out from under the furs. She murmured something in her sleep but didn't stir.

Outside, the morning air was cool and clean, carrying the distant sounds of gulls and the quiet bustle of early-rising villagers. Erik stretched, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders.

Now to get things ready for departure, he thought. We need more rides… more supplies… tents, tradeables,armors, weapons, edibles… and gods, do we need more elks.

He glanced toward the treeline, already imagining the work ahead.

"First," he muttered under his breath, "I'll have to find more elks. Gotta travel in style. Give a good first impression and all that"

His plans were already unfolding in his mind—routes, supplies, the people he'd bring, the ones he couldn't.

'I think Runa will come' he thought 'and I'll take Ainar as well to continue teaching him. Besides Helga and Gonir that's four people. I need more people. Hopefully Chief Frode will find good people for me'

After taking a shower where Runa joined him and they had some more fun. They had a heavy breakfast where he explained to Runa that he would be leaving in a week or two. Runa quickly left afterwards to try and convince her father to let her go with him.

As everybody stayed up late during the feast which included the children and his other students, school remained closed that day. He decided to use the free time to head to his lab and build a prototype armor he's been experimenting with over the last month.

Entering the lab, Erik paused at the threshold, appraising the chaos he'd built with a craftsman's eye. It looked like a fusion of an armorer's shop, a cloth factory, and a medical alchemist's den. Modern materials—carbon-fiber sheets, jars of resin, bundled rolls of spider silk—lay beside medieval ones: tanned leather, bones, pots of glue, and stacks of straw fiber. Most of it he had grown or shaped with his power. The rest he'd merely… accelerated. The hides from their hunts, for example, had gone from raw flesh to fully cured leather in minutes.

Resin's running short again, he thought, glancing at the half-empty barrel of powdered resin made from plant fibers and other bio-polymer-rich materials. Enough for a few more sets of armor. It'll do for now.

He rolled up his sleeves and began.

Through the entire morning and long into the day, he worked while sunlight streamed through the shutters, striking scattered materials: coils of leather, gleaming threads of spider silk, thin black carbon-fiber strands, cool barrels of natural resin, and a steaming pot where a gelatin mixture thickened.

His mind returned to the inspiration behind all of this.

After much brainstorming he'd based his armor on the giant arapaima fish, an amazon river fresh water creature whose armor had evolved to make it immune to predators like the piranha. It's had baffled hunters for generations, the only freshwater fish known to shrug off spearheads and even small caliber bullet in his old home lands. Its scales were famously bullet-resistant, stab-resistant, slash-resistant and flexible despite incredible toughness.

Amy Dallon had been fortunate to have been asked to heal a pair of them in a zoo once so she barely remembered their genetics but add their brain enhancement and higher intelligence and recreating those scales or something similar but more suitable for human armor was easy.

'The secret was its two-layer architecture' he muttered to himself 'Outer Layer – Hard, mineralized protection that acted like metal, rigid and dispersing force on impact. The inner layer flexed like woven cloth, absorbing the shock and preventing cracks from traveling deeper. In between was a thick collagen mesh that absorbed impacts. Together they formed a defensive system far beyond anything early steelworkers ever imagined.'

Erik could recreate the fish's natural materials but he theorized that he could improve them to suit an armor's purpose.

He laid a sheet of leather flat and spread a thin mixture of natural resin strengthened with carbon fibers, giving the outer scale its hardness. Once cured, it produced a surface nearly as tough as horn but far lighter.

Over this he wove a layer of Darwin spider silk threads in precise patterns—alternating spirals and lattices—to mimic the fish's mineralized microstructure. Spider silk's absurd tensile strength acted as reinforcement, preventing cracks form occurring and if formed from spreading.

Then came the inner layer.

He poured the warmed ballistic gel-like mixture, crafted from boiled animal gelatin and plant extracts, onto a second sheet of leather infused with straw fibers. When cooled, it formed a thick, soft, shock-absorbing pad—flexible, but capable of deforming to catch and dissipate force just like natural collagen.

Finally, he pressed the layers together while the gel was still pliable, allowing it to seep into each other and bind the two halves, just as collagen bonded the fish's scale layers.

When he lifted the finished piece, it was shaped into a curved shiny grey hexagon plate.

A scale. A single piece of the scale armor design he'd chosen to build using his arapaima armor idea.

Erik studied it in his hands, weighing it while recalling why he's chosen to build scale armor and not plate armor.

'Scale armor, unlike plate, offers High protection from blunt force and piercing Resistance to slashes, cuts, and bites Flexibility across joints, letting the wearer crouch, twist, and sprint' Erik recalled his thoughts 'I can design a modular design meaning every plate could be replaced individually and fitting different body shapes would not be a problem as the threads holding he armor could be loosened or tightened to fit everyone. It's also a cheaper and faster production than making plate armor which I would have to fuse and custom shape using my powers while the scales can be made by anyone, I teach it to so long as they have raw materials that I could make in large quantities easily'

'Each scale is light and durable. When dozens overlapped like roof tiles, they formed a flexible, nearly seamless shell' Erik thought proudly 'If a scale was cracked or burned or crushed? I could make another in minutes. Far better than reforging metal which we didn't have any way'

'Now which style of scale armor should I use?. Hmm… japanase style' He thought recally what he's once read in on a museum plaque 'The construction from many small, overlapping plates connected by cords allowed for a high degree of movement, which was crucial for both mounted archery and the agility needed in close-quarters combat.'

He eagerly set to work, producing dozens more, then stitching and binding them onto a leather underlayer until a gleaming grey coat of arapaima-inspired scale armor took shape.

'Now to practically test if it as good as I think it is' He thought as he used various weapons on it 'Now comes the fun part'

He tested it with a knife slicing and stabbing with full force. It didn't even leave a mark. With a sharpened spearhead he stabbed it and the spear tip skidded across, leaving only a faint scratch on one scale only.
With a hammer strike, only a shallow dent in a few scales occured, the impact dispersed across scales and swallowed by the gelatin layer beneath.

"Let's make the full set" he muttered imagning the armor for legs and a matching helmet "It has to be a multi-functional but focused on cavalry style use mainly. The helmet has to have the intimidating factor of a samurai helmet." He started designing more parts and added scales.

'Like the Japanese armor , I'll coat the armor in lacquer, which will protected the plates and the silk and leather lacing from the humid climate and prevented rust and rot. I'll use green lacquer' he thought

Time flew by and much progress was made.

It was afternoon when Chief Frode entered his lab alongside several older people looking for Erik but when they came in and saw the finished armor set their jaws dropping slightly.

"Steel armor" the Chief whispered "This ….this looks amazing!"

"I did promise you compensation for taking some of your clan's people. And it's not steel. It's something better" Erik replied proudly displaying the armor to Chief Frode and the chosen elders, Erik explained

"Metal Plate armor that the southern kneelers use stops blades and arrow well, but it's heavy and cumbersome. It also needs lots of iron and a skilled blacksmith. As we lack both, I have made this scale armor from naturally occurring materials. Leather offer good basic protection and moves well with the body, but it fails against heavy attacks, spears and arrows. This scale armor takes the strength and durability of nature itself and puts it in your armor. It's easy to make and repair. I will teach some of your folks how to do so. When we travel, fight, or hunt, you will be protected by scale armor which is as strong as kneelers steel plate but light and flexible"

"This rivals kneeler steel plate in strength but remains light and flexible. It can be repaired quickly. It can be fitted to anyone. The only disadvantage is the small gaps between the plates where a lucky strike can get through" Erik finished his explanation

Gonir leaned forward, grinning with childlike excitement. "Amazing!"

The elders murmured agreement, running their fingers hesitantly along the overlapping scales as if holding a relic.

Erik crossed his arms, satisfied.

"So," Erik said, folding his arms as the elders admired the armor. "Now that you're done being amazed at what I'm offering… I'd ask what brings you here, Chief."
He glanced at the weathered faces before him—skin like old leather, hands scarred, eyes sharp despite age. Warriors whose years had taken more from them than any enemy ever had.

"But," Erik added dryly, "I think I already know."

Frode cleared his throat and tried to stand a little straighter.

"Yes, well… I brought the others you asked to meet," he said. "The old codgers who no longer have battles or much work left in them here, but who might serve your purpose—if given new life."

Ten elders stood behind him, battered old men and women, each with tools or weapons strapped across their backs. Not for use anymore, but out of habit. And as symbols of the lives they once led.

Erik offered them a respectful nod.
"Welcome, Elders. I know each of you a little. I'm pleased you agreed to be rejuvenated and to leave your village behind… to travel with me, to help in my mission to aid all the freefolk."
His gaze swept across them.
"I would like to hear your reasons. So please. Take turns and tell me."

They exchanged glances before the first limped forward.

The first was an old woman who had a noticeable limped and used her spear as a walking stick. Her hands were knotted like driftwood, scarred from years pulling nets through icy surf.

"I'm Halldis Storm! I was once a Fisherwoman, the fastest fisher in the northern span, I earned my nickname for the way I pulled lines faster than most men could shout warnings. My spear flew straight and true killing any seals and walruses that dared to come in to my sight" Her voice was strong yet weary "A storm two winters ago crushed my boat across a cliff. I survived but it left me weak in my arms and limping. Now I'm too weak and too slow to fish and hunt seals"

She bowed to Erik, eyes sharp.

"Champion! Life Weaver! I refuse to die waiting on a dock while younger fools ruin the tides. If I have a chance to mend my bones and cast nets again… I'll follow you to whatever sea you choose." She offered before stepping back

Next an old bent man shuffled forward. His back was bent like a broken bow, his fingers trembling constantly

" I am Turik the tanner. Once I was the finest tanner and leather maker in our tribe, I had made leather armor, shoes, and belts for everyone. I was also part of the militia and trained in archery. Age stole the steadiness of my hands, and in shame i retreated from my craft. Now my sons and daughters do what I did while I sit and rot away"

"I want to feel the leather between my fingers again," Turik whispered. "I want to make leather goods under the spring sun, not wither inside my own hall. I'd lost the will to live until I saw you make Gonir young again. Make me young Life weaver and I'll serve you" he said before stepping back

The next person to step forward was perhaps the youngest of the elders. She walked straight and showed no illness though she had a pudgy body. She was soft-spoken, her brown hair was long and was starting to get white.

"I am Sigrun of the four sons. I raised four sons, buried three along my husband and lost the fourth to wanderlust. I am a spear wife with decent spear skills. I am known for my tasty food especially my healing soups which I make using herblore Helga taught me. I've served generations by keeping their bellies full and cooked healthy and scrumptious food even in the depths of winters when food was scarce. But my last boy… he's out there and he's the only family I've left" She said "I have given this village all I had. Now… I choose myself. If youth returns to me, maybe I'll find the path my last son walked, or carve a new one of my own. Maybe find him out there or at least know what become of him"

A thin elderly woman stepped forward, her back bent but her eyes still steady.

"I am Eldri Runetongue… keeper of the old histories." Her voice came out as a quivering, scratchy thread.

She pressed a knotted hand to her chest. Her other hand held a worn willow flute. She continued "For decades I carried our ancestors' tales, every lesson, every cadence. But age… age has stolen the sharpness of my memory. My voice, once rich and full, now trembles. My breath not enough to play the flute"

She gave a sad, breathy laugh.

"I still know the meanings behind the runes, and the weight of their power… though the magic never answered to me as it answered my teacher."


Her gaze moved to Erik.

"My stories will not die—others remember them, and retell them. But if I regain my strength… my purpose will not be just teaching lore but adding a very important part of our history that I will bear witness. History that you will carve. I will teach again. Teach the children. Teach your people, when you gather them and make sure your tale is told properly"

She bowed her head.

Next A broad, bald weathered man shoved past the others, lifting the stump of his left arm for all to see.

"I am Skaldi One-Hand," he said, voice loud and ragged like gravel. "A raider's axe took this from me many winters ago… yet I fought on for years with a shield strapped to a harness."

He tapped the wooden cap of the stump with a hard knuckle wincing in pain

"Last winter the wound reopened. It closes then open again if I move it around. Pain drove me from the shield wall and I hated every day of it!"
"Why did I agree? Simple." He looked Erik dead in the eyes and lifted the stump higher."Give me two hands again, healer… and I'll give you a shield-wall that does not break."

The next to speak was a wiry man with a mischievous glint that age had not managed to erase.

"Ketil Stone-Slinger," he introduced himself with a small bow. "I used to hit birds mid-flight with pebbles. Could clip a raven's feather at fifty paces. No one ever beat me."

Then his smile faded.

"But this—" he tapped beneath his right eye, the clouded pupil catching the firelight "—dimmed with the years. Ruined my depth. And these hands—" he held them out, shaking slightly "—tremble now when I try to aim."

He swallowed, jaw tightening.

"I want my eye, my hands… my gifts. And if you grant them, I'll use them for you and yours."

Next was an old woman with tattoos on one side of her wrinkled face and bushy white hair. She grinned toothlessly and he saw that half her teeth had rotted away.

"I'm Yrsa. I was once had once been wild as winter winds, leading raids in my youth. I settled here later when this buffoon" she said smiled teasingly and pointing at the old longbowman "caught me eye and I fell in love with him so I let him steal me from my tribe. I raised our children, and tried to grow old gently. My body's weakened faster than my spirit."

She grinned, showing a missing tooth.

"I've grown bored of dying slowly. I want to roam, hunt, fight and be free as I once was. Fix the rot in my body, I'll give you a fighter fiercer than half the young pups outside." She said then gestured for her husband to step forth.

He walked forward and he could see him wobbling and moving erratically likely due to a curved spine. That combined with only one enlarged shoulder and upper arm bones showing increased bone density and an asymmetrical skeleton showed he was a trained longbowman who's deformed his skeletal structure through decades of practice and at old age it was crippling him

"This is me man Orvar the longbowman. He doesn't talk much. He was the tribe's silent sentinel, a man who could draw a bow heavier than most men could lift. But now his bones all twisted into useless knots, ending his service." She explained about her husband "Untwist all them twisted bones, and he'll put arrows wherever you ask—from here to the next horizon."

They stepped back. Next stepped out a huge scarred man with a missing ear whose back had stooped with age. He had a large bronze two handed axe that he leaned on a bit as he stood in front of him. He wore an old bear skin with the bear's head as a hat on his own head.

"Hjalti Berserkir" he said thumping his broad wrinkly yet muscular chest speaking in third person about himself "Hjalti once a legendary front-line warrior. Hjalti's charges broke enemy lines like twigs but Hjalti's knees collapsed after decades of battle and old head wounds give terrible headaches."

He bowed awkwardly.

"Hjalti want no headaches and strong body back. Hjalti never fear death, never run away from death, but toward it and whatever you build next."

Next was One eyed Korb A tall, wiry man with one milky eye and the other one missing with a patch hiding it.

"You know me Champion" Korb said bowing a bit "But I will speak more"

"I was the best hunter and tracker of the village. I scouted high on the cliffs, guiding hunters and warning against raiders. " he said "I was a warg like you. I had a mighty eagle as my companion. I even taught young Henrik all I knew of warging. I had family. Life was good. Until …"He sighed "until it wasn't. I lost me wife and children to cold, sickness and raids. When my eagle died of old age, I lost the will to live. I was too old, too tired to start again. I prayed to the old gods to give me purpose or take me" He tapped his spear and gestured towards him "But then you came along and I saw the hope you are spreading. I don't want what's happened to my family to happen to others. So I will help you, serve you as you help others. You have given me hope, I'll give you loyalty worth keeping."

The Hall Falls Silent

Frode let the hush settle, then turned to Erik.

"These people… they are not merely forsaking age," he said. "They are forsaking the lives they thought were finished."

Erik looked over them—fighters, artisans, fishers, weavers, storytellers, scouts. Old in flesh, but not in spirit.

He felt the weight of their hopes settle on him like a mantle.

"You all know," Erik said quietly, "that youth will not give you your old lives back. Only new ones. Harder ones. With danger. With purpose. With change."

Yrsa stepped forward, planting her worn spear into the dirt floor.

"That," she said, "is exactly what we want."

One by one, the others nodded.

Eldri Runetongue lifted her thin chin.

"We are tired," she whispered, "of waiting for death. Now death will have to wait for us."

Chief Frode gave Erik a slow, solemn nod.

"These," he said, "will be your first followers. Not because they must… but because they choose, if you'll have them in your new clan"

"I will" Erik inhaled, feeling the moment settle into his bones. "Right then, we'll need…" he paused looking at them all " ..ten, no eleven deer or large animals to power you rejuvenation"

Ketil Stone Slinger frowned. "But we're only ten."

"You are indeed ten" Erik said "I'm adding him" he said gesturing towards the chief "so that's eleven"

The chief blinked. "But—"

"Oh! And I forgot your old lady wife, didn't I?" Erik interrupted. "So that's twelve."

He grinned wickedly.

"Can't leave the village weak with an old fossil like you running it, can I?" Erik joked.

"No. Absolutely not, leave me out of it." Chief Frode stood arms crossed, jaw locked tight.

Helga stepped forward, hands raised in peace. "Chief… listen—"

"I am listening," Frode replied stubbornly. "I don't want it"

Yrsa snorted. "Oh, come now, Frode. Being young again ain't that bad. Quit being stubborn"

Erik drew a slow breath. "Chief, this is preparation. You've said yourself the village needs to be ready."

"Aye, ready," Frode growled. "Not… whatever this is."

Korb leaned in, voice calm, almost gentle. "Frode. You know we need your judgment. If you're not there, the others will argue for hours."

The old chief glared at him, but the edge of his anger wavered.

Runa added softly, "And… it would mean something if you agreed. People follow your lead."

"Also with your wife young and beautiful beside you…." Gonir commented wiggling his eyebrows suggestively

"Shaddup you oaf" Frode shifted, grumbling under his breath. "Gods curse the lot of you. Ganging up on an old man like ravens around a crust of bread. For shame"

"We're all old." Ketil pointed out "So we can gang up on you with no shame"

Fride grunted sullenly

"Is that a yes?" Erik asked carefully.

Frode threw up his hands. "Fine!" he barked. "But no funny business! if any of you start chanting, glowing, or sprouting feathers, I'm walking straight out."

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[Hordac]

Ch 12

"Good. Then we move forward. Tomorrow, we'll choose the animals, strong and healthy ones to sacrifice in exchange of the rejuvenation. After that, we start the process. One by one." Erik said to all the gathered old people

The elders stiffened, straightening their spines as if preparing for battle.

Halldis tapped her spear on the floor.
"I'll not hide my joy at the thought," she said. "I'll cast nets again."

Turik wiped his palms nervously against his tunic.
"I'll work leather and not be a slow rotting burden to the village."

Sigrun pressed her hands together.
"I'll find my son and walk the world on even legs."

Eldri Runetongue smiled

"I will tell your tales and teach runes to all who seek its mystic powers"

Skaldi lifted his stump again, jaw set.
"I will hold a shield with two hands and protect you and what you build"

Ketil's clouded eye gleamed weirdly.
"I'll see clearly who are your enemies and strike true."

Yrsa grinned like a wolf.
"I'll run free, Champion. I'll roam the world and guard you in your journey"

Orvar gave a sharp nod—probably the most emotion he'd shown in months.

Hjalti struck his chest again.
"Hjalti will crush skulls of Champion's enemies"

Korb bowed low in solemn promise.
"Young eyes or old, I'll scout for you and be of service"

Frode groaned again as every face turned expectantly to him.
"Oh gods… fine. I'll do my part in the village. But if any of you so much as joke about me being handsome again—"

"Oh, we will," Sigrun said sweetly.

"Constantly," Yrsa added.

"All the time," Ketil finished.

Frode's suffering was glorious.

Erik clapped his hands, drawing their attention.
"Then it's settled. Tonight, rest. Tomorrow… your new lives begin."

A collective breath washed through the room—mixed fear, hope, excitement, disbelief.

They drifted toward the doorway in twos and threes, muttering to each other in hushed, excited tones, as if scared the moment might crack if they spoke too loudly.

Runa, who had returned some time ago, had remained silent at the threshold. She hadn't wanted to interrupt—just watched everything unfold with the quiet intensity of someone seeing history being made. She stood quiet, unreadable, her dark eyes taking in every word, every expression She lingered now, gaze following the last of them until the hall grew still. Only when the last of them slipped out did she step forward.

"You do realize," she said, voice smooth and edged like silk hiding a blade, "that you've just upended the lives of an entire generation"

"No," Erik sighed, the weight finally dropping from his shoulders. "They upended their own lives. I'm just opening the door for a new chance." He thought 'One like I got being sent here'


"And dragging them through it like a man who thinks destiny should hurry up." Runa's replied, her lips curved as she smiled knowing.

He gave her a look and she gave him one back, sharper, amused, impossibly beautiful in that dangerous way she had.

She stepped closer, slipping her arm through his with deliberate slowness.
"You pretend you're only guiding them," she murmured, her voice low, intimate, "but you burn so brightly it's impossible not to follow. Even for me."

Erik swallowed. "Runa—"

"Don't overthink it," she cut in gently, lifting his chin with a single finger. "Just let yourself be… human. You carry the world on your back, Erik. Tonight" her eyes softened, that rare tenderness only he ever saw "you can let someone else distract you."

Her forehead touched his. His hand found hers automatically.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, "I forge my own clan. Some of my first followers… my first responsibility. And my first promise to uplift the world outside these walls."

Runa's breath brushed his lips.
"Then come to bed," she said softly, confidently, as if stating a command, the stars themselves would obey.

He didn't argue. He simply let her lead him. And the night claimed them both ,quiet, warm, and full of unspoken vows.

------

The Next Day – Before Dawn

Erik left long before the sun had risen, boots crunching over stiff grass as he stepped out into the cold blue-grey of the predawn light. Sitting atop of Kahuna, his warg retinue gathered effortlessly around him—the fox slinking at his heel, the raven fluttering onto his shoulder, the wolves pacing in a loose semicircle, breath steaming in the cold. Above, the owl circled silently. The two shadow-cats moved like ripples of night beside him, nearly invisible but felt.

He inhaled deeply. Today was time to hunt.

One-Eyed Korb waited for him by the treeline, leaning on his spear. Henrik stood beside him, tall and lean moving with a hunter's quiet confidence. His warg companion hawk perched on a nearby branch.

"You came" Erik noted. "Thank you. We'll cover ground a lot faster this way"

"We were awake before you," Korb replied with a wry smile. "Bad habits from the old days."

Henrik nodded respectfully. "What do you need us to track?"

"Deer," Erik answered. "Many of them. Enough to rejuvenate ten to twelve people at least, more if we get lucky. And any elks you see—I'll take them all."

Korb chuckled dryly. "You and your elks."

"They're big enough to carry us and I do like to travel in style," Erik shrugged. "And I need enough mounts for the people joining me."

"Tall order" Henrik commented "You'll need a dozen at least. Let's see how lucky we get"

They went separate ways, spreading into the forest. Korb and Henrik tracked with nearly supernatural precision with Henrik's eagle letting them see far but it was Erik's senses, shared through raven, fox, wolves, even the owls overhead and enhanced further by the living radar gift of the old Gods made the search swift and efficient.

By mid-morning they had a dozen deer bound and ready, their bodies uninjured and calm thanks to Erik's warg touch. Several other older, smaller animals were also hunted and either eaten by his wargs or were to be taken back to the village for communal eating.

They also found seven new elks, two massive males, proud and thick-antlered, and five females, strong-bodied and docile under Erik's mental guidance.

"Good haul," Korb grunted, visibly impressed.

Henrik whistled low. "The gods smile on you."

Erik merely nodded. He knew how people viewed him and looking at it from their point of view he could understand even though he didn't agree with it.

They packed up their haul on top of the new elks and turned back to the village, happy with a successful hunt.

They returned to the village as the sun reached its peak. Children ran to the fences shouting as the new elks were guided in, their massive forms and numbers drawing gasps.

But Erik had no time to bask in the admiration.

School was already waiting.

Because everyone had stayed up late the previous night, he had given the children yesterday off. But now he taught them more than usual as he would soon not be teaching them

Later came the few grown-ups who had been learning from him. They got bigger portions of meat as a bribe and compensation. He taught them more as well as they would become the teachers once he left. That required knowledge to pass on in his absence. He'd made advanced lesson plans and primers for them to follow.

Kari, one of the woman asked once the lessons were finished
"Are we truly ready to teach others, Erik?"

"You almost are," he said firmly. "By the time I leave, all of you will be."

He ate a meal of roasted fish and flatbread standing up, barely taking ten minutes. Then he was already moving again. This time to the lab where several volunteers awaited

Chief Frode had sent volunteers, adults with steady hands and serious expressions. Together they helped Erik finish several more sets of armor of Arapaima-scale cuirasses, Leg guards, Arm guards, helmets with a samurai-like face scary masks and deer antlers he'd added. All was lacquered green for protection and uniformity. Most of the task were delegated but a few he had to himself like particularly the helmet as the samurai face mask plate and antlers required his powers to make it right quickly.

And finally, he crafted round shields made from dense weirwood boards, coated in leather, then plated with smaller versions of his arapaima-inspired scales.

'Light. Durable. Nearly indestructible.' He thought as he tested it by having a villager take a swing at him.

The volunteers talked whispered in awe as they worked. They had learned enough that they could make and repair more armor so long as they had the raw materials.

'Raw materials like resin and carbon fiber which only I can make' Erik thought 'a bottle neck in production speed but a necessary one to maintain leverage. Just in case'

As sunset bled across the sky, the entire Heart tree clearing was crowded once again. Six deer lay ready outside, alive and braindead. Helga and Gonir were amongst the crowd as his ambassadors, calming fears as the voice of experience.

The six chosen stood forward: Turik the Tanner, Orvar the Longbowman, Yrsa the Wild, One-Eyed Korb, Chief Frode and Frode's wife, Asa.

Frode looked like he regretted every decision that led him to this moment. Asa elbowed him.
"If I'm doing this, old man, so are you." Asa said

"Gods save me," Frode muttered.

Erik stepped before them.

"Tonight," he said, "you will rise young again. Tomorrow, the rest. I kept my promise—you will walk into the future with strength. Never Forget! This is a gift from the Old Gods to thier worthy worshippers. It is meant to be cherished by spending this new life in their service. It is not meant to be squandered or do injustice upon others." He paused before speaking ominously "For what is given can also be taken away" The crowd listened silently in reverence and fear with some nodding in agreement.

"You're up first Turik. Step forth" Erik said

Erik knelt beside him. "Lie down, old friend."

When Turik obeyed, Erik placed one hand on his chest, the other on a deer, and the ritual began.

Turik's hands, once trembling like leaves in a storm, steadied under Erik's touch. His joints loosened. The rough stiffness of his fingers, scarred from a lifetime of blades, smoke, and brine smoothed. The gnarled knuckles unknotted themselves.

The deer shriveled into a husk.

Turik gasped as his shoulders pulled back, broad and steady again. His eyes sharpened; the dull yellow haze of age cleared, revealing the keen craftsman's gaze he thought forever lost.

He sat up slowly, staring at his hands like holy relics.

"These…" he whispered. "These are mine again."

He flexed them and they moved steady and strong

A trembling smile broke across his face.

"I can work," he said. "I can create again."

"Who's next?" Erik asked "How bout you Halldis?"

Halldis Storm limped forward using her spear as a walking staff. Erik gestured for her to lie down. Then Erik touched her and the deer.

And then the rejuvenation took her.

It hit like a wave, a rush of warmth through her bones, a tightening of muscle, strength threading back through fibers that had long surrendered. Her limp vanished first, leg straightening as if remembering what it was meant to be. Then strength returned to her. Her spine straightened. Her breath deepened.

She gasped and stumbling got up, but Erik caught her until she stood firm under her own power . She flexed her fingers and toes, then her whole armand leg , awe widening her eyes.

With a sudden burst of speed, She threw the spear she hadn't truly wielded in years at a tree. It whistled cleanly through the air and struck the trunk loudly

A smile — fierce, wild, young — spread across her face.

"That two done" Erik stated "Orvar?"

Orvar nodded limped forward, his frame twisted by decades of war wounds and bone warping. One shoulder too high, one hip too low, ribs pressing wrong against one another. His bow arm hung crooked, useless.

He laid down with a shuddering breath.

Erik touched him and the deer.

The bones were the first to change.

Orvar felt them shift—grinding, then aligning with slow, precise snaps. His spine straightened segment by segment. His ribs settled like a collapsing tent pulled upright again. His arms lengthened equally, shoulder joints rolling back into perfect symmetry.

The second deer shriveled.

Orvar arched off the ground with a shout as the last vertebra clicked into place. His lungs expanded fully for the first time in years.

When he stood, he stood like a warrior reborn, straight, tall, balanced.

He reached out as if to draw an invisible bowstring.

His fingers pulled back effortlessly.

"Thank ye" he said quietly. It was the first time he's heard him say anything to anyone.

"Me next" Yrsa said stepping forward hurriedly.

Yrsa didn't lie down—she dropped herself with the careless confidence of someone who had never feared anything but boredom.

Her body was still strong, but the rot had crept into her joints, her gut, her blood, a slow, creeping decay that no warrior's will could outrun.

Erik touched her and the deer.

Yrsa hissed as heat surged through her limbs like a blaze roaring through dead underbrush, burning away the rot. Her heart thundered. Her muscles tightened with fresh strength. The old ache in her hips vanished. The stiffness in her shoulders snapped free.

The deer shriveled into a husk again.

Yrsa sat up in one swift movement, eyes wide and bright as a wolf's.

"Oh yes," she growled, rolling her neck. "That's the fire. That's the rage. That's the life I remember."

She sprang to her feet in a single bound.

"Erik," she said, grinning savagely. "If you need someone to hunt your foes, I'll be the first in line."

"Korb" Erik said gesturing him step up.

Korb lowered himself to the ground slowly. Not from pain, just weariness so deep it had hollowed him out.

Erik placed his hand on Korb's chest and the deer beside him.

This rejuvenation was quieter and gentler.

Korb's body didn't surge with sudden strength; it woke.
His heartbeat steadied. The fatigue clinging to his bones evaporated. His skin tightened. Muscle shaped itself anew on his arms and legs. His remaining eye sharpened until it gleamed like polished amber.

The deer shriveled in to a husk once again.

Korb inhaled sharply—his first deep breath in decades.

He sat up slowly.

"…I feel alive," he whispered. "Alive and strong. Are you sure…?"

"Do not lose hope" Erik replied "You are needed. You will make sure other donot suffer the losses that you have suffered"

A small smile—rare, fragile—touched his face. He got up and Hjalti stepped forth.

He lowered himself to sit, joints cracking like old wood. Erik placed his hands on the ruined knees and the other on a deer

Hjalti grunted as they loosened, not with magic, but with the painful force of muscles remembering their shape. Scar tissue softened. Tendons tightened. Hjalti drew a sharp breath as his legs straightened fully for the first time in years and the dull headache that had haunted him like an old enemy finally slipping away.

Another deer shriveled into a husk again.

He blinked, breathed, blinked again.

Then he stood.

No wobble. No hesitation.

"Hjalti has legs again! Hjalti has no ghosts pounding inside skull!" Hjalti barked a laugh that echoed off the trees.

" Hjalti feels… dangerous again!"

"Alright " Erik said feeling tired but willing to see it all done " Ketil, come forward"

Erik palced a hand on Ketil and another on the deer. He coaxed the muscles around the eye to wake again.Ketil gasped. His fingers twitched. The tension in the lid changed, then the focus in the pupil tightened like a bowstring drawing back.

Next came the hands. Erik worked the tendons, massaged the knotted forearm muscles, forced the shaking joints to realign. It was hard. But not too painful. Ketil endured, but didn't pull back. When it was done, the tremor was gone.

Next was Skaldi who stepped forward impatiently

"Give me two hands again, healer" Skaldi said as he thrust out the stump proudly. The old wound was swollen, tender, angry at being touched. Erik inspected it carefully, then set to work — pressing, pulling, aligning old bone and scar with grim precision.

Skaldi's breath hitched. Sweat rolled down his jaw. But he didn't flinch.

Bit by bit, the stump changed — not magically, but through the brutal, slow correction of a limb rediscovering its shape. Muscles twitched. Bone ached. Skin stretched.

And then the fingers appeared , first a curl of movement, then form, then strength.

Skaldi stared, stunned, as he closed a hand he hadn't possessed in years.

He flexed it. Made a fist. Slammed that fist into his palm, grinning like a wolf.

The deer shriveled into a husk again.

"Two hands. Two hands again!" Skaldi yelled happily and stepped away for the next one.

Next Erik guided Eldri to sit. He placed a hand on her back, steady and firm. He worked her lungs first — long, slow pressure along the ribs, adjusting the tight muscles that kept her breath shallow. Eldri gasped as her chest opened wider than it had in years.Next came her throat. He massaged the frail muscles, easing decades of strain.

The deer shriveled into a husk again.

Her next spoken word came out clearer and stronger.

Eldri's eyes widened. She lifted the willow flute with trembling hands.

She blew a single note. It rang true.

Her hand fell over her heart as tears gathered.

"I can speak. I can breathe. I can sing our history again."

She bowed her head happy tears in her eyes and stepped away for her old Friend Sigrun

Sigrun stepped forward with quiet dignity, hands folded.

Erik studied her gently, then set to work, helping her sit and stretch. It was not dramatic , no bones snapping into place, no scars undone. Only muscle after muscle tightening, toning, awakening.

Her breath deepened. Her back straightened. Her steps grew lighter. Her softness melted, not fully, but enough that she moved like a woman a decade younger.

Sigrun touched her sides in surprise.

"Oh my! I haven't felt this light since my second son's birth…" Sigrun murmured .She smiled shyly, cheeks warm.

"Thank you, Erik. I'll serve you with what strength I now have" Sigrun said

"Chief?" Erik said "You're up next"

Frode hesitated, pride wrestling with necessity.

He laid down, breathing out heavily.

Erik placed a hand on him and the deer.

Strength returned to Frode like a rising tide. His chest broadened, muscles packing tightly across shoulders once weighed down by leadership. His greying beard darkened. His eyes sharpened with the fierce steadiness of a man born to command warriors.

The deer shriveled in to a husk. Again.

Frode stood taller than he had in years, imposing, solid, powerful.

He ran a hand through his now-thick hair and let out a deep breath.

"I can serve them again," he said. "Not as the last embers of a leader… but as a roaring flame that leads and warms in the darkest of nights"

Next Asa lay down with difficulty—joints swollen, legs stiff, her memory frayed by creeping fog.

"I am old," she murmured. "Wrinkled. Forgetful. My bones ache with every step. I would like to remember the faces of my children without reaching for them in my mind. Fix me, Erik. Please."

Erik placed his hand upon her.

Her gout-clotted joints cooled, the swelling pulling back. The fog in her mind lifted like morning mist. Her wrinkles softened, then faded. Her breath deepened. Her limbs loosened until they no longer trembled.

Another deer shriveled in to a husk.

Asa opened her eyes and clarity shone there, sharp as the first frost of winter.

She sat up slowly, touching her own face, her own hands.

"Oh…" she breathed. "Frode… look at me."

Frode strode to her, stunned, seeing her as she had been when they were young.

She rose to her feet with no pain at all.

"I remember everything," she whispered. "Everything."

Frode wrapped his arms around her, breath trembling.

They stood together, a chief and his wife reborn.

The elders were too stunned by their own rebirths, too overwhelmed by limbs that did not hurt, spines that did not bow. They were feeling life.

Unlike them Erik felt strung out,he tried to get up but he swayed.

'I think I overdid it' he thought 'I shouldn't have rushed this after working with my powers all day long'

Yrsa noticed first. "Erik?"

He lifted a hand. Tried to smile. Failed.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, blurring the edges of his vision. His knees buckled, and he caught himself on the nearest stump, breathing hard. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

The others surged closer, but Helga's voice, steady and commanding held them back.
"Give him space."

Erik lowered himself to sit, elbows on his knees, head bowed as he tried to draw breath deep into his lungs. His heart thundered like a war drum pressed too hard. Every fiber of him felt hollowed out—like the deer he had drained, except still alive by sheer force of will.

He wiped his brow with a shaking hand.

"Too many," he muttered. "Too close together. Power's… running low."

His vision pulsed with dark spots, the world tilting gently as though the earth itself rocked.

One-Eyed Korb knelt carefully a few paces away. "Rest, Life Weaver. You gave more than flesh today."

"Just—" Erik sucked in air, let it out slowly. "Need a moment."

He closed his eyes.

The cold wind brushed past him, tugging at his hair, cooling the feverish heat beneath his skin. His breath, ragged at first, gradually steadied. His pulse eased. The hollow ache in his bones dulled from a scream to a muted throb.

Minutes passed.

Quiet minutes.

The newly young stood around him in a reverent half-circle—not speaking, not shifting, simply watching in the way warriors watch a comrade recovering from a great exertion. Respectful. Alert.

Turik murmured, "He looks half-dead."

Orvar replied softly, "Yet he brought us all back from half-death."

Finally, Erik exhaled long and slow, and the trembling in his hands eased. He lifted his head.

Color had returned to his cheeks. His eyes focused again. His spine straightened with a weary groan.

"I'm all right," he said. And this time, it was mostly true.

He pushed himself to his feet—slowly, carefully, but without wobbling. He rolled his shoulders, testing for lingering weakness. It was still there, a deep fatigue in the marrow, but he could stand. He could breathe. He could walk.

Yrsa grinned. "Back from the brink?"

Erik smirked faintly. "I just need something to eat. Maybe ten thousand calories."


"Well after what you've done" Frode declared, "we'll feed you enough for twelve winters!"

Frode stepped forward, placing a newly strong hand on Erik's shoulder.

"You did a great thing today," he said. "Now let us steady you and help for a while."

Erik nodded, breath finally steady. "Just give me a minute to catch the world… it's still spinning."

His strength was already returning, slowly, steadily as his body recovered from the monumental gift he had given to them.

The newly rejuvenated stood in a loose semicircle around . Helga and Gonir stepped forward with them, their faces bright with the same fierce certainty.

"I walked here with nothing left to offer. Now I stand straight again" Turik the Tanner, now broad-shouldered again bowed his head. "Erik… my life is yours to command. May you lead us with wisdom."

"I'll follow you " Olvar said bowing in respect and gratitude.


"I'm yours in the hunt, in the fight, and in all the strange things you drag us into." Yrsa the Wild snorted a laugh, tossing her now-thick braid over her shoulder.

"My voice is yours, Erik." Eldri said "My stories are yours. But if you ever stray… I will be the first to speak against you."

"Life Weaver, Erik." Halldis said as she bowed her head "I pledge my renewed strength to your cause. I'll fish, hunt, fight, whatever you need."

"You have retuned my voice, my purpose "Eldri Runetongue said "I will speak your deeds with truth. And I will warn you if your shadow grows too dark."

"You gave Hjalti back the war in his blood." Hjalti bowed to Erik with surprising grace." Hjalti gives you the rest of his life. Hjalti vows to breaks your foes."

"We are souls reborn. And every rebirth needs purpose" Sigrun ssaid as she 0rolled her shoulders, testing her renewed strength. "You've given us that. We give ourselves to your service… as long as your heart stays yours."

"You've helped us without asking for anything. You've protected us without asking for praise. You've changed our lives without demanding anything in return" Helga said as she stepped to Erik's side, her jaw set, eyes fierce. "That is why we choose you. Not as a master. As a leader worth following."

"We stand with you" Gonir nodded sharply beside her. "Lead to great new innovations and wonders"

Erik exhaled feeling the weight of their commitment. He steadied himself, met each of their gazes, and answered:

"Then I'll just have to make sure I live up to your expectations."

Author's notes

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