LOST

“How long is the Wolfsbane supposed to last?” Samal asked quietly as he tried desperately to get over being nervous about being enclosed in a flying metal tube thirty thousand feet above the ground.

“It should last long enough for us to get to where we’re going,” Zachary replied. “If not, we’ll improvise.”

“And where are we going again?”

“What used to be Thórsholr.”

“I’m still not sure I understand why.”

“We’re going to have a bit of a reunion. A cozy, little campfire, songs and dancing. I assure you, it will be quite lovely.”

“You humans are a strange lot.”

“Aren’t we, though? We love our rituals.”

The pilot made an announcement that they would be experiencing some turbulence for the next half hour or so as they flew through a storm.

“Turbulence? That doesn’t sound good,” Samal said as the cabin began to shake. “Is this turbulence?”

“Yes,” Zachary replied.

“Well, I don’t like it.”

Alex quietly stared out the window in a daze as the satyr gripped the armrests tighter and tighter. “I think I can feel one of my horns coming loose.”

“Just relax. We don’t need to cause a scene. Here,” Zachary reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small vial. “It’s essence of valerian root. It’ll help you sleep.”

“Thanks,” Samal said as he took the vial, opened it. He hesitated and sniffed it before drinking it.

“Don’t worry,” Zachary said. “It’s not poison. You’ve been quite useful.”

Samal still eyed him suspiciously as he drank it.

Wiz, Stew and Marie were a thousand miles ahead of Zachary and Alex, but they could not forget that they would be behind again as soon as they hit the ground—a fact that made all three of them nervous. Wiz kept their conversation to a whisper as Marie slept in the window seat, covered with a blanket and her head buried in a pillow.

“I wish she hadn’t gone out without me. I told her what you said about Zachary. I warned her. I—”

“It’s okay. What’s done is done. The important thing is what we do from this moment forward. Look at the past and learn from it, then move on. Don’t dwell on things you cannot change. Without the past, there is no present. Without the present, there can be no future. Remember that.”

“I guess you’re right. So, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to do what needs to be done. We’re going to have to be efficient with our time as soon as we get to Oslo, but for now, we’ve got several hours to kill. Let’s change the subject for a bit.”

“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything I want? How about religion?”

“Religion?”

“Yeah. Well, you’re immortal but… you believe in something, right?”

“Of course, I do. I believe in myself. I believe we are all connected. All of us—humans, animals, earth and sky. Connected to each other by a force more powerful than the magnetic pull of the planet’s gravity. And I believe in the magic in and all around me. What do you believe in?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Wiz laughed aloud but quickly quieted himself to a chuckle as he looked around and remembered he was on an airplane with a hundred other passengers, most of whom were trying to relax and get settled in for a long flight. “I met a preacher once. Well… he wasn’t a preacher at the time, but he had been. He told me his favorite sermon he ever gave was on what he called the ‘Four Basic Food Groups.’ Faith, love, hope and charity. Everyday, he prayed to foster those things in his church and nourish his congregation. And every Sunday, he encouraged his congregation to foster those things within their own lives and nourish the world.

“By the time I met him, he had lost all but one of those things. He had not faith, love nor charity. All he had left was hope—hope that his children would not end up at the same dead end. His story was a sad one filled with loss, betrayal and abandonment, but I hold on to the idea that all the major religions can be boiled down to those four tenets—faith, love, hope and charity. Like soup for the homeless, the label does not matter as long as what’s inside is nourishing.”

“Interesting analogy. I’ll have to remember that.”

“Now… that is the only time you will ever hear me talk about religion. Religion is a man-made institution and has no place in a relationship with God. It creates tunnel vision because all they can see is the path before them that leads them to God and they forget about the people around them who have their own paths.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had tunnel vision, but that’s probably because I’ve never felt like I was on the right path.”

“It’s good that you realize that, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Very good.”

“What about Christianity?”

“What about it?”

“Do you believe in the whole Jesus thing?”

“Do I believe in Jesus?” The weight of the question was apparent when he sighed and looked straight ahead. “My preacher friend tried to… save me. A couple of times. I guess I’m too stubborn. We were never taught anything about Christianity growing up, you and I. And after you disappeared, I couldn’t bring myself to have faith in anything but the fact that you were still alive somewhere. Stew… there’s something else I have to tell you.”

“Wiz, there’s always something else you need to tell me, and it’s never something I want to hear.”

“Well, I think you might want to hear about this. I only kept it from you for your own safety. It’s about Alex.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“Astrid.”

“The one from my dreams, who you said was in dang—wait a second. You don’t mean to tell me…”

“Astrid is Alex. I thought Zachary already knew that. Apparently not and I gave it away. So, her being kidnapped is my fault.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Stew quickly became anxious, his breathing, rapid. “So… what? She’s immortal, too?”

“No. But you do have a history together, like you and I do and Zachary.”

“Well, I’m glad we have some time to kill, because you’re going to give me a history lesson.”

Wiz took a deep breath, “Yes,” he said and then exhaled. “I think you’re ready.”

“I’m not so sure I am, but go ahead anyway.”

“I suppose I should begin with Zachary. He was adopted by Astrid’s family when his was killed by invading Saxons. A Norse warrior found him near a river in Wales, eating bugs, and took a liking to him. The warrior brought him back to Thórsholr but wanted him to have a family, so, he took him to Astrid’s father. Zachary was eight years old. She was ten. She was very beautiful and he became infatuated with her… lusted after her. So much so that when Zachary was thirteen, Astrid’s father threatened to take him back to Wales and leave him there. Zachary swore that he would change and not ever think about her like that again. And he was true to his word, at least he gave the appearance that he was.

“Everything was fine until Astrid met a young man named…,” Wiz raised his eyebrows , coaxing Stew to fill in the blank.

“Xamn?”

“That’s correct. Xamn… you… visited Astrid’s family several times in hopes that they would let you marry their daughter. They were very excited and proud of the thought of you being a part of their family. You belonged to a félag… a group of seið… magical practitioners. We called ourselves… Hringr Ljóss or…,” again with the eyebrows.

“The Circle of Light?”

“Very good. You have been paying attention after all. Have you ever studied Norse or Viking culture, Stew?”

“Not culture, really, but history… and mainly just the conquering parts. You know, this country invaded that one. This empire grew and overtook that one. These days, you have to major in History to learn anything more than that, I think.”

“Well, the Norse were a proud people, in love with their culture and in love with their rituals. The Circle was revered amongst the people of Thórsholr. Their rituals brought plentiful crops and plentiful crops brought healthy new babies. Zachary kept his jealous heart silent as long as he could, but his rage boiled and spilled out of his eyes every time he saw you. He wanted desperately to pummel you and rip your heart out. But he knew that if he did that, he would have to deal with the rest of the Circle.

“He traveled to neighboring villages, looking for someone to let him apprentice, so he could learn a trade. Having a difficult time of it, he was having a drink at the mead hall of one these villages and got to talking about us. He found out that seiðmaðr… remember, seið were magic users. Seiðmaðr were male magic users and were often ridiculed in most villages and looked at as women, because only women were supposed to use magic. He brought that hate speech back to Thórsholr and, though the people of Thórsholr held us in high esteem, Zachary managed, after being left bruised from several thrashings, to find a few who adopted the views of the other villages about seiðmaðr. He recruited four of them to be his bodyguards.

“It was common knowledge that the Circle performed their rituals in the woods, so, Zachary followed them on the evening of their full moon rite to see exactly where. And he knew their next ritual would be on the new moon. When the moon was still just a sliver on the left, he waited for the cover of night and went to the grove where their sacred space was, taking with him his four hired thugs, enough food to last until the next day, a woodcutting axe, a shovel and several lengths of rope. They cut down a tree, sawed the ends to make a nine-foot pole, and put it in the ground, directly in the middle of their ritual circle. Then, they gathered a bunch of small pieces of wood and put them around the stake. Zachary then had his men set up snares at the entrance to the grove.

“Zachary and his henchmen waited there until the next afternoon. As soon as they heard voices, they hid themselves behind a boulder just beyond the ritual circle, leaves and twigs breaking beneath the tromping feet of their quarry. Modeos… that’s me, remember… and the other members of the Circle saw the stake in the middle of Òðinns-hörgr, our sacred space, and ran to see how else our ritual site had been defiled. As each member entered the grove, we were caught in the snares, most of us unable to do anything.

“Xamn… you… were the keeper of the ritual sword. Hanging upside-down, you drew it from its sheath and cut yourself down, but before you could stand, there were two henchmen grabbing you up and snatching the sword from your hand. They drug you to the stake and tied you to it, then proceeded to cut the others down and tie them to the stake beside you. I yelled at them to let the others go, but Zachary smiled his evil smile and said that seiðmaðr were an abomination, as were anyone choosing to associate with them. He pointed to the bag of supplies that I had been carrying and told one of his men to get the flint and make a fire at the base of the stake.

“The wood was dry and lit quickly. Once the fire started, all but one of Zachary’s men, nervous, I assumed, about the consequences of the execution they helped carry out, ran far from the village, never to be seen or heard from again. The one who remained chose to stay well out of the way, at the edge of the grove.

“Flames began to reach up and lick our legs and our clothes began to burn. The rope on your wrists was on fire and you were able to loosen it up enough to reach in your sleeve and pull out the hunting knife you kept strapped to your forearm. You cut yourself loose, but Zachary, seeing this, grabbed the sword from the henchman who was holding it and ran it through your gut before you could free anyone else.

“The screams were ear-piercing. I could barely hear anything else. The pain was, until then, unimaginable. But Zachary… it was as if he could not hear the screams. It was as if he could not feel the heat from the fire. It was like all he could hear was the trickling of your blood onto the blade of the sword and all he could feel was hate. The two of you looked in each other’s eyes and I think the full measure of what he had done took hold of him. The lust for Astrid had to have been all but gone—transformed into wrath and envy. He noticed that his sleeve had caught fire, and pulled the sword out of your stomach and stepped back to the edge of the circle and patted his burning sleeve with his other one.

“Blood ran down the front of your shirt and pants, cooking as it did so. Dying, you must have felt one last rush of adrenaline because you ran toward Zachary. He was startled but he stepped out of the way in time for you to miss and fall to the ground, still on fire.

“You cried out for Astrid but… Zachary, maniacal laughter pouring out of his mouth, raised the sword and brought it down, thrusting it through your back and into the ground. The moment it touched the earth, a translucent orb rose out of the ground and immediately burst, showering everyone with blinding light.

“Zachary rubbed his eyes, and when he looked down, you were not there, nor was the sword that he had driven all the way into the ground. He looked at the stake that, just a few moments before, had been engulfed in flames, but was now a cold obelisk of petrified wood. I, along with the other members of the Circle except for you, who had disappeared, stared back at him, all of us unharmed, unburned and very confused. Zachary’s only remaining henchman, white as a ghost and speechless, ran as fast as he could back to the village.

“Certain, I imagine, that he was moments away from being attacked and tortured without mercy, Zachary turned to the forest and sprinted. I led the others after him, but before our very eyes, as he approached the point where the light of the setting sun met the encroaching darkness, Zachary went through an amazing metamorphosis. In a few seconds time, his entire body lifted off the ground and separated into several dozen pieces and each of those pieces became a raven.”

“That’s exactly like what I heard at the newspaper,” Stew noted. “So, how can you remember in such detail, after all these years?”

“The memory of it haunts my dreams and I get the pleasure of reliving the whole thing every time I sleep. I still have the smell of burning flesh in my nose to this very day. And the things I did not witness myself, I learned from the last henchman. We had found him in the village recounting what happened to anyone who would listen, hoping for forgiveness.”

“What happened to Astrid?”

“Well, she was devastated. It broke my heart for the second time that day to have to tell her the news myself. Until her death, I don’t think she ever recovered. Had she not been one of the strongest and most stubborn women I had ever met, she might have died of a broken heart herself.”

“And what happened to the Circle after that? Did the people in Thórsholr know that you were, at that point, immortal?”

“I’m not sure, really. You were revered as a hero, though.”

“A hero? Wow.”

“Yes. But… as for the Circle, we fell apart, basically. We disagreed on what really happened to you. The other two tried to convince me that you were gone—lost forever to Valhalla. I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it. And rightly so, as it turned out.”

“Is that why you have not mentioned their names even once?”

“Yes. I haven’t spoken their names aloud since I left them. But that’s about to change.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, I sent Regan ahead to find them and tell them everything. Hopefully, Brandr and Tófa will be waiting for us when we get to Bergen.”

“Well, couldn’t they stop Zachary? I mean, he’s going to get there a couple of hours ahead of us. Alex may already be dead by the time we get there.”

“No. If he wanted to kill her, he could have done that back in Charlotte. He thinks he’s setting a trap for us. He wants Alex alive and for himself. But he doesn’t know we’ll have the Circle in its entirety and intact. I just hope he doesn’t have anyone extra with him.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Me, too, brother. Me, too.”