I am Aud, daughter of Ingvar. Tonight is the deepest night of vetrnætr, two days before Álfablót. The halls of my ancestors are restless; their shades whisper my name.
Many summers have passed since my grandfather joined them. Our men have left for faraway lands, following Odin’s call to search for riches and the glory of battle.
I alone am left to fend off the weird creatures that shamble outside our village gates. The nuckelavee, that hellish rider… it’s here.
I hear its bones rattling, its putrid breath polluting the very air beyond the village walls. Can feel the heat of Muspelheim trailing in its wake.
May the hand of Thjodhild guide me, and the All-Father bless this ring. Grant me strength.
Tonight, perhaps my last night, I swallow a tankard of mead for courage. I know Valhalla will be waiting for me.
I scale the highest wall of the Hall of Ingvar, and from there glimpse the Nuckelavee--and my god, its face! Its face.
It looks like Uncle Bolverk has returned home to us at last.
I steady my hand. I ready my bow, then let loose an arrow dipped into Ymir’s well. It flies! It catches the Nuckelavee’s side! Blood streams from its wounded flank, turning the white snow black.
But I am not to celebrate my little victory for long. My mouth opens in a silent scream as the Nuckelavee, in one giant leap, jumps from the ground and onto the wall. My blood runs colder than this winter night.
Its eyes burn. Its very being--burns. Polluted ichor pulses through its veins, through its muscles, through the two human arms dragging along the wall as it ambles toward me, and seems to smile.
And then it speaks.
“Niece.”
Quick as the devil it is, it gallops towards me, roaring in a voice that is both beast and man and the shrieking of the multitudes of souls it has consumed.
I grip my sword with both hands and crouch low. Already I can feel the fire begin to blister my skin. There is no time for prayers. The Nuckelavee lunges at me. I block its arms with my shield, parry with my sword, but it has too many limbs. It is too strong.
It has seized me by my neck. It shakes off my weapons. It holds me close to its face.
God, its breath. Its breath. Odin, make this quick.
The beast opens its mouth…
And suddenly an arrow bursts through its cheek. There is an arc of blood, a cry of pain.
Ah. So it can feel pain.
It drops me, staggers back.
“Aud!” It’s my friend Guldrid, and she’s brought the other mothers from the village. “We thought you would need some help!”
Yes. I pick up my sword. While the Nuckelavee tries to take that vicious arrow from its cheek, I attack. It stumbles back, crying out. This might be our last night on earth, my friends. I hear Valhalla calling.
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