Tales of the Slain: 1-Agni

 

Agni stumbled and fell to his knees.

The hard ground tore at his already damaged breeches and shards of ice and rock cut deeply in to his knees.

“Where..” he managed to mumble before some one struck him from behind. The axe bit deep into his rib cage but he couldn't feel it. All he could feel was the cold, his hands numbed from fighting all day and his sword fell from his grasp.

He reached out as a blast of snow obscured his vision causing him to see nothing but swirls of white. And as the axe fell again he saw red.

Blood, his blood.

And then he saw nothing.

 

When he woke up later that day Agni looked around, he was sat at a great table in a great hall, hundreds of men and women sat there, horns filled with frothy ale or heady mead.

Some one struck him on the back, as hard as the axe that killed him and he looked round sharply, a snarl on his lips.

“HA! I got you again Agni, three days running now I have killed you. You are lucky you are one of the Einherjar or you'd be facing down Modgudr one last time!”
“Bjorn, I should have known it was you..” A laugh came to Agni's lips and someone on the table passed him a horn of ale “The last time I spoke with her you was stood beside me..”
“Ah, that is a tale I would like to hear...” said a careful voice as a man stepped from behind a chair. His clothing marked him as one well travelled, rich silks from far away lands blending with the furs and thick weaves of his native lands.

The hall went quiet, and then the murmurs started up..

“Kvasir.. Kvasir is in Valhalla!”

The strangely dressed man, Kvasir, sat at the table opposite Agni and Bjorn.
“Tell me of how you came to be known and Agni Bear Killer and Bjorn Blade Breaker...” he pulled a horn from a pouch, though how it fit in there none could say for it was easily as long as his arm and it filled itself with a sweet red mead from which he took a drink and then offered it to the men who sat across from him. 

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