Boys become men when they bring meat home. Eirik carries a boar spear over each shoulder. The longer one dragging behind him is for Magnar, his older brother by a year and a season.
Eirik rubs his neck against a strap. Hard rations for a week fill the pack snug against back, and a pair of bed rolls bounce on his butt.
His brother turns sixteen this month. Helping him hunt boar is a younger brother’s duty.
“Magnar!” Eirik kicks a rock off the trail. “If it rains, I’m not starting the fire!”
A bush at a bend in the trail ahead shakes, and a tall, lean youth steps out. Magnar twirls a hatchet and catches it with practiced ease.
“I already got a spot,” says the older brother. “I think it’s what Uncle Ottar recommended. Collosal log with tree-sized branches and a fire pit, it could pass as an elf’s house.”
Gray clouds darken the afternoon sky. Their sage forecast a light rain, not these storm clouds.
Eirik blows tangled blond curls out of his eyes. “And if it floods.”
“Then you’ll crouch like a table and be my bed.”
Eirik spits. “I’d sooner slit your throat and steal your raiding spot.”
They both laugh. Violence is funny for Vikings whether from ancient Earth or the Seventh Ringworld of Midgard. Limited to small settlements and simple technology by divine enforcement, Eirik’s village survives more from hunting and trading than raiding, but they are Vikings in culture and deed.
Once they return with a boar, Magnar will earn his heartrune. Their village sage will burn it onto his chest with a glowing iron, ash, and Asgard-granted magic. Magnar’s talent will manifest, turning the burn into a glowing symbol unique to him. The specifics of his heartrune power will become clear fastest through battle.
