First 500: The Saga of Adis Raudfeldr by Siobhan Clark
WELCOME TO THE FIRST 500: The Saga of Adis Raudfeldr EDITION, WHERE WE AT VRAEYDA LITERARY SHARE THE FIRST 500 WORDS OF OUR PUBLISHED WORKS.
BELOW IS THE FIRST 500 WORDS OF Siobhan Clark’s Norse & Saami folklore Dark Fantasy Novel The Saga of Adis Raudfeldr, CURRENTLY ON SALE AT THE VRAEYDA STORE AND WHEREVER NOVELS ARE SOLD.
Rauðvig Íssherðar, daughter of the Jotnar
Long ago, within a valley etched deep into the earth and far from the eyes of the realm, a woman dwelled alone. Rauðvig was her name, because she was born of blood and battle. Her mother was a follower of the warriors who once swept towards the mountains. These men sought the Jotnar, pursuing legendary names and glorious deaths for themselves, and understanding very little of the world. When upon the frozen earth and swaddled in snow, came Rauðvig from her mother’s womb, not one cry did she utter. She lay surrounded by the slain as crows gathered over the torn flesh of the dead. A pair of black eyes as smooth as polished glass spotted the child, and flew towards the rocky peaks of the mountains, coming to rest on the shoulder of a Jotunn.
The Jotnar came down from the highlands and took Rauðvig. They were dismayed to find her heart half frozen and the skin of her back blackened by the frost. A Jotunn woman took the foundling in her arms and breathed into its mouth so the child might live another day. They named her Íssherðar, Ice-Shoulders, for the markings never faded from sight.
Seasons came and went. As Rauðvig grew, she found she was lacking in ability when those around her surpassed expectation. Her body, in comparison, was weak and she knew nothing of the realms save what they told her. The very same Jotunn who had breathed life into Rauðvig, took it upon herself to teach the woman all that was out-with the reach of Miðgarðr. What men called spells and incantations the Jotnar knew as threads of existence. Rauðvig soon came to learn that to pull upon a thread meant consequences to all living things. One should not take what one cannot return. When all learning had been exhausted, the Jotunn bid farewell to Rauðvig, who felt she could no longer live with those she fell so short of.
She built a home on the edge of a vast lake formed by the cut of a glacier and walled in by stone. When the winter arrived, she walked out onto the ice, hacked at the frozen surface with the sharpened point of an antler, and lowered her hook into the water. She waited alone, with a sinew line wrapped around her fur-mittened fist. Life went on like this for an unmeasured period of time.
There came a night when a man appeared at her door, and Rauðvig let him in. He said his name was Ulfr, he had come in search of a death that matched how he had lived his life. As Rauðvig drew close to the man she hissed in his ear, ‘If there were Jotnar in the mountains, they would not come to battle with one as feeble as you.’ Ulfr was insulted and demanded to know what feat he could perform to impress upon her his prowess. Rauðvig’s heart thawed somewhat despite her resentment of one so eager to die. She told him to return with the finest wool so that she might weave a cloak. This he did. Then she told him to return only when he had found the root of a certain plant, which he did. Finally, Rauðvig told Ulfr he might sit at her fire once more when he brought her the heart of a bear.
LIKE WHAT YOU SEE? WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WITH Ulfr?
Read the Ebook
Read the Paperback or Hardcover
