Note:Â This is a sequel to my earlier series, Season of Ice.
Port Stronghold
The city lay in ruins.
As the longboats commandeered by Mabinne and her magic-users sailed off to the south, the primary port city of Ikslund lay frozen, covered by ice as deep as a big man was tall. Buildings had collapsed under the weight of the ice; the roads into the city were blocked. People standing in the open were locked into sheathes of ice, freezing and suffocating. Thousands died in a few minutes after Mabinne had crushed the soul crystal, directed the overwhelming flow of power into her ice magic and locked the city and the port solidly under an instant glacier.
But the late-summer sun still shone on the city. Before Mabinne’s commandeered ships were out of sight, water began to drip from the ice.
On the outskirts of the city, the ice ran thinner and thinner as the distance from the port increased. A league from the port, the ice was only a fingers-width thick, and people and stock easily pulled free. Within the hour riders were fanning out, across the countryside, to inform Ikslund of the disaster. One veteran of the King’s cavalry saddled his horse and headed for the King’s court at Thunder Castle, a day’s ride to the east. Within a day, Ikslunders bundled in winter clothing were entering the city, looking for survivors.
Nightfall brought a halt to the searching all too soon, but in the morning more people had gathered. Two men, brothers, tied iron ice-walkers to their boots and penetrated the city as far as the harbor. A horrible sight awaited them.
“It’s like whoever did this had a grudge,” one of them said.
“Indeed.”
Here, by the docks, the layer of ice was not as thick, covering the ground and the wooden docks to a depth of no more than a hands-breadth. Here and there, on the docks and around the nearby offices and warehouses, were strange, upright caskets of ice, ice frozen hard as granite, only now showing signs of thaw as the morning sun strengthened.
And in each casket was an Ikslunder. Most of them had the look of summer raiders, although some of the caskets contained dock workers, merchants and, in several heartbreaking instances, children.
One of the brothers gave voice to both of their thoughts: “It’s as though one of the ice giants from the old legends took form and froze the city.”
“Look, over there.  One of these ice coffins is broken open.”
A few paces away one of the caskets was indeed broken. A stout figure, wrapped in a sodden bison-hide jacket, hung from the ice, his head, upper chest and right arm exposed. The brothers hurried to his side.
“Gods beneath us,” one of them exclaimed. “He’s still breathing.”
“Let’s get this ice chipped away. We need to get him to the healers. He may be the only one who can tell everyone what happened here.”
***
Thunder Castle, Ikslund:Â Two years after the fall of Port Stronghold
King Harald Iron-Jaw was getting on in years, having just seen his sixty-fifth summer. Twenty years earlier, after his successful war against Beretan, Jutland and Mondria, he had been a great hero to the Ikslunders. Now – now, with the magic-user army of Mabinne the Merciless ravaging their country, he was rather less so.
Harald was a big man, like most Ikslunder men; broad-shouldered, ruddy faced, with thick red hair and a magnificent russet beard, both now streaked with gray. Seated on his mammoth-tusk throne in the castle’s great hall, wearing his shaggy mammoth-hide robes of office, he still cut an imposing figure.
But the war was damaging his standing in Ikslund. Unless something changed, he was in danger of facing a Moot, at which the nation of Ikslund would choose a new king.
He was hoping that the man who now stood in front of him could change all that. This was, after all, the sole survivor of the fall of Port Stronghold.
The man was clearly badly damaged by the freezing of Ikslund’s major port. He had, Harald had been told, only survived because his great strength had somehow enabled him to move his head back and forth enough to crack the ice over his face, allowing him to breathe – barely – and to eventually work himself free. But on the rest of him, the frost had taken its toll. His left leg was missing below the knee, where a wooden peg now took the place of the missing appendage. His right foot, Harald had been told, was wooden as well, after the amputation of everything below the ankle. His left arm ended just below the elbow, and on that stump, he wore a heavy leather-and-wood appendage that ended in a heavy iron casting, made to look like the head of a blacksmith’s hammer. His right hand was missing the fourth and fifth fingers, but Harald understood that the man had, in the months since he had gotten out of the recovery bed, been training himself to cast a heavy lance with his ruined right hand.
The rest of him, at least what was visible under the heavy bison-skin robes he wore, was badly scarred by severe frostbite. A patch covered his missing left eye. His long, tangled hair and his matted beard were as white as new snow, but he looked strong enough.
It was his expression that impressed the King. He wore a dark scowl, his one blue eye glittered with rage. This was a man bent on vengeance.
“So,” Harald said. “You are the man of legend; the man storytellers are singing of. The sole survivor of Port Stronghold.”
The man bent his head in a minimal show of respect. “I am, Highness.” His ruined voice was that of black water dripping into cold pools in some dark place.
“What do you seek?”
“Revenge, Highness.”
“Revenge for yourself? Or revenge for Port Stronghold?”
“Both,” the man answered, candidly.
“That may take some time,” the King informed him. “Mabinne’s army – and navy – is growing day by day.”
“Revenge, Highness,” the big man rasped, “is patient.”
“You know Mabinne the Merciless personally, I am given to understand.”
“I do. I took her as a slave on a raid to Beretan, the year before Port Stronghold fell. As I had no woman at my farm, I kept her on, instead of sending her to the slave market. She was mine for a year, and with her magic-users wiles, she found her way into my confidence, and into my affections, which is why I removed her binding collar.” He stopped to catch his breath; clearly speaking was not easy for him. “I assure you, Highness, I will make no similar mistake in the future. And, Highness, that makes me ideally suited to bring her to her just end. I know the bitch, as no one else does.”
“I remember your father,” the King mused. “A braver warrior never drew breath. Can you live up to him?”
“I can, Highness. I will.”
“Step forward, then, you who was Hengist Jorgenson, now known as Hengist Hammer-Fist.”
Hengist limped forward, to just in front of the throne. “I cannot easily kneel, Highness,” he apologized.
“Never mind that,” Harald said, waving a dismissive hand. “That’s not necessary.”
Hengist nodded gratefully.
The King extended his hand. “I name you General Hengist Hammer-Fist. I have five ships and five hundred men at the port of Greenstead. They are to be yours.”
Now the big man bowed, as deeply as his ruined body would allow. “Endless thanks, Highness. I swear, by the scars I bear, by my life, by my blood, by my teeth, by the bones of my father, and by all the gods below, that I will bring Mabinne the Merciless before you, in a binding collar and chains – and nothing else.”
“Now that,” the King said, “I will look forward to.” He produced a scroll, handed it to the scarred man. “Your commission. I will order an escort to take you to Greenstead.”
“With all my heart, I thank you, Highness. You will not regret this.”
“I’m sure I won’t. I have another gift for you, Hammer-Fist.” The King turned to a nearby servant and made a gesture. The servant nodded and disappeared. “Would you object to magic-users in your army?”
“I would not,” Hengist replied. “Indeed, it would help to even the odds.”
“Good.” The King smiled as two women entered the great hall, escorted by the servant. “I give you the twins – Agneyastra and Kristol Anagsdottir. They are well motivated; they, too, seek revenge against Beretan.”
“Fire and ice,” Hengist mused. “That would be useful.” He nodded to the twins. “I presume you took your names from your powers?”
“We did.” The women each raised their hands, Agneyastra her left, Kristol her right. Agneyastra’s hand lit up with a clear, blue flame. Kristol’s hand gave off a sparkling haze of ice crystals. “Our magic is substantially more powerful if we are in contact.” They joined hands, and both displays strengthened noticeably.
“Interesting. Are you willing to spend months afield or at sea, to fight, to suffer, to eat bad food and suffer cold, heat, seasickness, to see your comrades wounded and killed, to stand the chance of being wounded or killed yourselves?”
“Our parents were killed in a Beretanian raid when we were but six summers,” Agneyastra said. “Also, our younger brother. Our older sister was taken as a slave. For all we know she is still enslaved somewhere in Beretan.”
“We will suffer anything,” Kristol added. “Anything, in the name of vengeance.”
“I think we will get on very well,” Hengist said. He regarded the twins. They were typical Ikslund women in being tall, long-legged, and fair. They seemed to be about his age; both had pale blue eyes and pale blonde, almost white hair, gathered into two braids that hung over their shoulders. Hengist noted also that they were identically beautiful.
That part of him, at least, was still fully functional.
It will be difficult to tell them apart, Hengist realized. Never mind. I suppose that will sort itself out. “Greenstead is a two-day ride away. Have you horses?”
“I will order the stables to provide horses for them,” the King interjected.
“Good. Highness, by your leave, we will depart at once.”
“Of course. May the gods see to your success.”
Hengist nodded to the King. He glanced at the twins, who smiled, nastily, identically, angrily, with narrowed eyes. “I presume you have clothes and so forth to gather. Can you meet me at the front gate in an hour?”
“We will be there,” Kristol said.
AIEEEE! Animal is never going to finish this!
Oh wait, that’s Ice and Fire. Does the commutative property apply to titles?
YAY!!!!
Man, I am glad you continued this story.
Looking forward to Mabinne the Merciless vs Hengist Hammer-Fist and his twins.
Revenge is a meal best served cold.
It is very cold… in spaaaaacce.
“Count Potato on April 3, 2023 at 10:00 am
“Biden: “There’s going to be a second pandemic.”
https://twitter.com/21WIRE/status/1642673544055123970
No.”
You didn’t understand, Count, it was a threat. They’ve already manufactured another one, ready to be released when needed.
Is he saying the quiet part out loud again?
Nice job Animal.
Kind of surprised they didn’t execute hengrist for causing the problem in the first place.
Never thought of that, but it wouldn’t have been surprising.
I found queen Karen:
https://twitter.com/EKEBIKES/status/1641263578823966722
I’m pretty sure each hive has it’s own queen.
Plus all the worker Karens and Drones.
At first I thought she was trying to say that Arkansas is really cool.
So thirsty that she tagged David Hogg in the hopes he would retweet.
Somebody stuck it in that.
“because his Dad chose to live on the outskirts of town”
And reversed course. Wisely.
Her pinned tweet: https://twitter.com/EKEBIKES/status/1525869232151576576
LOOK HOW ANGRY I AM
🙄
I wonder what he was trying to get away from….
And stop fucking building cities and towns that fucking sprawl!!
*whispers – deregulation*
I’m surprise he didn’t move out of state. I imagine he can feel the white hot glare on the back of his neck from the city outskirts.
Road design absolutely matters and influences driver behavior.
As a road designer, yes but not how you mean.
I’d be curious to know who really ran the red light. Couldn’t possibly have been her little snookums, could it.
Also, I think it’s pretty unusual for someone running a red light to get into a head-on crash. They are usually more t-bone crashes.
Unless you are the runner.
If that post weren’t a year old, I would have responded, “Well maybe you shouldn’t have run that red light.”
I drove through Arkansas twice this last week. That would have been cool to see. The most Arkansas thing I saw was a car, towing a car, towing another car.
What is with those? I see those car trains all the time. I was thinking about asking David Tracy @ Autopian to write about it. It must be some discount junkyard car removal service.
Some states only let you double with towed objects. Others let you triple.
What’s ironic is that having that vehicle in the school parking lot could actually scare a potential shooter away.
Just the thought of being involved with her makes me think about suicide. Lord have mercy.
Sorry, but the idea that a woman could hold a grudge just seems so far fetched, don’t you think?
Thanks, Animal! Looking forward to these!
Sorry to go OT.
TPTB: I’m a little disappointed that the next (and last) chapter of “The Secret History of Vermont” didn’t get the Tuesday noon (EDT) timeslot. I submitted it last Friday. Is it not in the submission queue?
It was not…it is now.
Thanks! The dashboard showed it to me as “pending”. Is there some other indicator I need to look at to know I’ve submitted it properly?
It was getting a bit o’ work. I do the final stuff and scheduling. Pending status is enough!
Rats, I see I got bumped to a day I’ll be offline. Oh well, ya’ll enjoy anyway.
I’ll change my name to “Juris Impudent” for a day and see who notices…
That’s uh… my stapler…
https://www.cnbc.com/2023/04/03/google-to-cut-down-on-employee-laptops-services-and-staplers-to-save.html
Oh no, they might not get to take Goga (google yoga) any more!
As long as they muffins and crosoints are still hot every morning for the Quar Folx!
Those should never have happened in the first place. It gave people a false sense of what work is like. Work is actual, mind grinding effort. It has nothing to do with exercise classes, or getting a new computer every year whether you need it or not.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4w6808wJcU&t=453s
The Minnesota bit is good.
There is a growing movement to change the Minnesota flag because it is racist or something.
They’ll probably go the same direction that the city of Duluth went and fuck it up: https://duluthmn.gov/duluthflagproject/
Yes, they spent taxpayer money on that. Can’t fix the massive potholes, but we can redesign a more “inclusive” flag. *shakes head*
It’s a cleaner design. I am not a fan of flags with a complicated state/city seal in the middle. Adding “inclusive” i there is retarded. It’s just a better flag.
I… disagree. The old flag has heritage and a sense of purpose. The new one looks like it is for the Great Lakes Surf Riders.
Flag Grading, for fun and riling:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=l4w6808wJcU
Speaking of Minne… maybe they shouldn’t have published this on the first?
What a joke.
No, the City of Minneapolis didn’t put a dime in. The residents and visitors did.
I will never step foot in that stadium because of this.
The can pay for it with the revenues from electronic pull-tabs.
He rates OK the same as NY? In what universe?
Maybrinne, why can’t you …
https://duckduckgo.com/?t=ffab&q=maybelline+why+can%27t+you+be+true+song&atb=v198-1&iax=videos&ia=videos&iai=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D8RAfxiyMKAk
Oh, oh, may be a magic problem here
Nothing outrun my V8 Ford…
It worked.
Thanks for bringing this back, Animal! I enjoyed the first story. It needed some vengeance.
*insert Nelson Muntz here*
https://www.zerohedge.com/markets/blackstone-limits-breit-withdraws-fifth-straight-month
“only allowed $666 million to be withdrawn,”
Hmmm. Totally not interesting with a name like Blackstone.
Boy, that’s some sketchy shit.
CRE numbers are looking pretty ugly. I’d want out, too.
CRE is a mess. My formerly vibrant downtown is a ghost town, and those 5 yr leases signed in 2018-19 are coming up for renewal. A reckoning is at hand.
It appears that everyone wants out, but no one knows where the exit is.
https://www.theepochtimes.com/americas-biggest-banks-experience-massive-withdrawals_5167584.html
How ’bout dem Bruins, Tundra!?
I don’t think it’s gonna matter if they get Pitt or FLA in the opening round, but I personally think that Pittsburgh is the weaker team for a 7 game series.
Mr. Animal, I’m a bit concerned that ol’ Hengist is now on a rampage. Great story, as usual.
Hi Ozy!
Yeah, your boys are tearing it up. I’m not sure if it matters who they draw.
My Wild have their work cut out for them. We went and saw them play the Avs last week. I swear a third of the arena was Minne fans! Nice victory, but then they shit the bed at Vegas. Gonna be a tight finish.
I assume they are following the agreement.
Hedge Funds are different than REITs, duh, but Michael Burry refused withdrawals according to terms of the hedge fund agreement back in the housing crisis. Made the people who tried to pull their funds a fuck ton of money too.
I wonder if it is standard boilerplate fine print that you can only cash out of an investment as much as the investment firm allows?
See my comment above. Yes.
There are rules and limitations, but they are generally pretty vague.
You will get sued over it though.
I like airports. Such great people watching. I long for the pre-911 days. Also, thanks for another series Animal
I long for the pre-911 days.
Same. I love traveling, but it’s just such a pain in the ass.
I love travelling by car. So airports make little difference to me. I do have an actual business trip coming up, I have to get some new dress shirts. And it will be by plane to California. I haven’t been back there in years, and I am not looking forward to it.
You can say that again?
IT’S THE CURSE!
I love travelling by car. So airports make little difference to me. I do have an actual business trip coming up, I have to get some new dress shirts. And it will be by plane to California. I haven’t been back there in years, and I am not looking forward to it.
So I’ve heard!
Carry an FAA badge 🙂
Not that side of the airport.
I prefer the Signature side any day.. Wilson Air at KCLT was particularly nice and had reasonable people watching on the day I had to use them.
I remember walking my girlfriend to the gate in those days, stopping to get a beer on the way. Good times, and so much of what is there makes more sense.
And you could be right there waiting for somebody disembarking the plane. It was always an interesting experience seeing people waiting for their friends and family, hugs, ecstatic kids reunited with military parents, and so on, as people got off the plane
+1 Love Actually
The non-business travelers were the most interesting to watch, especially at international terminals. You see a combination of filthy rich teens/young adults, trophy and mail order wives with some old dude, and normal schmoes going on a big trip for the first time.
I agree with Ford Fairlane. God I hate the rich.
You would see some 16 year old traveling solo coming back from Vietnam wearing black footsie pajamas, wearing a Non La, and completely oblivious.
This noodle-armed, nazi cunte.
Yes I shoot guns.
Yes my family owns guns.
Yes I believe we need stronger gun laws.
Contrary to what the NRA wants you to believe, it is possible for all three to be true. …
Well For one I get two rounds and have to reload which is more than enough to defend myself honestly, if you need a 10+ round magazine, you need more range time not more bullets
Has he retwatted the new “pwn the NRA” thing yet, about how the 2A doesn’t say “own” so you don’t have any right to actually own a gun? Because that seems like the kind of thing he would think was a real winning argument.
Keep implies own. But I wouldn’t hold my breath for Little Piggy to use logic or reason (drink).
Not to give them stupid ideas, but “it doesn’t say PURCHASE!”
You know what you see when you look up Narcissistic Personality Disorder in the dictionary?
All cops should be carrying revolvers and keep a bullet in their pocket.
Your terms are acceptable.
Two rounds is more than enough? So one is enough? The kid who’s not really a kid is an idiot.
I believe we need stronger gun laws too. Like codifying constitutional carry in every state. And making suppressors freely available without being subject to extortionary excise taxes.
Animal,
Great story as usual. I’m happy to see our “hero” has survived his ice tomb.
I’m having a hard time reconciling “covering the town in a glacier thick enough to crush buildings” with “each person vacuum sealed for freshness!” — but I can roll with it for story purposes.
Still rooting for Mabinne. Her magic… maybe she was born with it….
Yeah, for a murdering, raping slaver, he seemed like an OK guy.
Sometimes there are no good guys.
I like that. It’s more interesting and true to life.
đź’Ż
The cool thing is, now he can have his feet nailed down without noticing.
What if a horde of idiots is after you, or they’re shooting back?
I don’t believe for a minute that this kid wouldn’t shit his pants if he was downrange of someone else.
He turns around, drops trou, bends over and sprays and prays.