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I knew at that moment –just knew– that memory was the catalyst for what was happening. It was the reason I was… Mind Walking.
“Holy crap! That’s what this is, isn’t it? I am Mind Walking.”
“I believe you are right,”Sith acknowledged, but I could tell he was thinking about something else.
"But only a Spiritual Elder or a Guardsman with the Magic of Sight and Prognostication can Mind Walk. I have neither. I am...."
“Look across the Hinterlands, Lad,"he cut me off, his tone low and ominous."Pay special attention to the banks of Leiruvogur Bay. Look hard at the land between it and the base of Mt. Mosfellsdalur. What do you see?”
“Nothing.”I looked again.“Well, nothing but landscape and piles of lumber.”
“Exactly,”he instantly responded.
"Yay! I get a gold star, but what does it all mean?"
"I do not know."
"What do you know?"
"I know enough to ask - where are the farmsteads of the Mosfell Viking Chieftains that were here the last time your subconscious decided to take us on this trip? Where are their villages? Where are the people? Where is Konnungar Frode Gulbrandsen's homestead?"
"Oh."The word whispered from my mind to his."Well, I… I don't know,"I exhaled sharply."Consider me put in my place."
"Already done."
"That's what I figured. Thanks for the proverbial kick in the ass."
"That's my job, Lad. That's my job."
Taking a closer look, I had nothing - just nothing. Well, I had nothing to add to the conversation. Yes, the Vikings were gone. We'd been here – metaphysically speaking – less than twelve hours before, and all had been as it had for centuries.
You see, it was widely known that all non-Magical people believed the Vikings were no longer roaming the Earth because of plague, drought, pirate raids, temperature changes, rising seas, subsequent flooding, or just plain old evolution. Those of us in the know, aka Magical Beings of all shapes and sizes, knew they hadn't disappeared or ceased to exist at all.
On the contrary, they were still alive and kicking in Iceland's Hinterlands. The Norse gods had hidden their people with good old fashioned Magic and Mysticism. The entire Pantheon believed it was in the best interest of the Vikings, as the chosen people of the Nordic Lands, to be allowed to live happily ever after being Vikings and doing Viking things far from prying eyes – and more importantly, really far from all the people they'd pissed off over the years. And everyone knew the list was longer than the Nile River.
As an added precaution, Odin and Freyja, the Norse Goddess of Love, Beauty, Fertility, Magic, War, and Death, and the undisputed Leader of the Valkyries, asked the Battle Maidens to remain vigilant and protect the borders of the lands allotted to the Vikings. And those Divine Warriors took their duties seriously.
So, when Nate, Chris, and I spent our lovely week skiing, sledding, and doing every other imaginable snow- and ice-related recreation, we somehow discovered the Vikings. Being ordinary young men with healthy curiosities and a proclivity for getting into trouble even when sleeping, of course, we snuck around and tried to spy on them. It was the chance of a lifetime. We were sure we'd discovered a hidden race long thought lost. We would be heroes. Maybe even get a medal or something cool.
To no one's surprise but our own, we were caught red-handed by a couple of Valkyries and carried back to Konnungar Frode Gulbrandsen, the Viking King of the Hinterlands. After being bound and gagged, then thrown over the backs of horses like sacks of potatoes, we were paraded through all of Konnungar Gulbrandsen’s villages and then put on display in the main thoroughfare right outside his abode.
Certain we were dead, imagine our surprise when he appeared several hours later, laughing loudly and calling usDrengr– Dragon in Old Norse. In less than a minute, he ordered his men to untie us, then ushered us into his home, where we proceeded to drink way too much mead and eat our weight in a succulent stew called skause.
(Thankfully, Mrs. Bee knew how to make it and snuck it to us when we were stuck in the horse barn. It was pretty much the only thing that made our 'incarceration' tolerable.)
The evening’s entertainment included Konnungar Gulbrandsen's lively retelling of what he and his people called The Great Concealment. Of course, the following day, we were sworn to secrecy and given an open invitation to return anytime as long as we told no one of their existence. At the end of a sharp spear held by Mist, one of the original thirteen Valkiries, we were assured they would know if we told anyone, and Odin, the All-Father of the Norse Gods, would remove our existence from the world.
As you can imagine, we told absolutely no one. We also returned to the villages several times over the centuries and became honorary Vikings. (Yes, we were branded while passed out and carry the mark with pride to this day.)
However, during my Mind Walk, they were nowhere to be found – not a Viking or a Valkyrie. Sith and I were instantly on high alert. Although we couldn’t escape the topography of our mental journey, we were not without some power.
Lowering our collective mind's eye closer to the ground, we focused on what I'd thought were stacks of lumber. However, I'd been wrong – a recurring theme in my life. They were really what remained of the Viking villages. It was as if every building had been deconstructed, and then there had been a mass exodus.
Now, you're asking yourself why I said deconstructed and not obliterated or demolished. Well, that is because they were neither. All the buildings had literally been taken apart like the Legos Nate and Molly's toddler played with, and all the components were neatly stacked as if waiting for the Vikings to return, rebuild, and go about their lives.
“None of this makes sense,”I growled.“Vikings aren’t known for their neatness.”
“Nor are they known for their…”
