~BRIA~

Go for hike through a Fjord, her father had said. Do some soul searching. Bria scoffed as her foot slipped on the mossy ground for the hundredth time. Easy for him to say, he was warm and dry in his office back in Oslo.

As she got her feet underneath her, she couldn't help but wonder what her mother was doing. They had been inseparable at one point. But then Bria had dropped out of college and things went down-hill from there.

Whoever said that a person's early twenties were their golden years was a liar and she would like to have a conversation with them.

Climbing higher, her thighs burned and her breaths came out in pants; the rugged path up the hill abruptly evened out. The trees dropped away to reveal a relatively flat surface, and the view was, well, breathtaking.

The Fjord sat far below, its deep blue waters reflecting the sky and clouds like the surface of a mirror. Hills and mountains reached high for the heavens; the bright greens of the trees and the gray of the rock shown in the sunlight. Not for the first time that day, Bria was thankful for a mostly sunny day and not rain, like the forecast had predicted. It wasn't every day that a hike through a Norwegian forest wasn't dampened by rain.

Maybe her father's idea wasn't so bad after all. If there was any place that could help someone do some soul searching, it was overlooking an ancient Fjord.

Deciding this was the perfect place to sit and rest, maybe unpack the food she had brought along, Bria turned her back on the Fjord. A flat rock sat just by the edge of the forest and it would be perfect to set her food on. Walking over, Bria was about to set her backpack down on the rock when she noticed carvings in the stone. Looking closer it was obvious what they were — they were runes, the old language of the Norsemen.

Bria knew a little too much about the history of the Vikings, of the men of the north. Her father, a man who loved his heritage, had taught her young. She could recall having a set of wooden dice with runes on them, sitting on her toy shelf right alongside her wooden alphabet set.

The runes on this rock were familiar to her, even if she couldn't remember what they meant. Kneeling beside the stone, setting her bag onto the damp earth beside her, Bria brushed leaves and dirt off the symbols. She wished her father had come along with her. He would know what the runes said.

Her fingers traced over rune after rune before stopping on the last one; it looked like an 'x' with two lines on either side of it. A long forgotten lesson from her dad pinched at her mind. Trying to grasp at the memory, the meaning of the rune just out of her reach, she touched it with her fingers.

Hope. The rune meant hope, that much she was sure.

Sitting back on her calves, letting her hands slide across the stone and into her lap, Bria looked over the cliff at the Fjord beyond. She knew Viking ruins were found all over Norway, but she hadn't ever found any herself. They were usually kept at protected sites or museums. Strange that this rock would be there, at the top of a hiking path, and not found by anyone before.

With a shrug, Bria stood and brushed dirt off her jeans. Whatever the runes said, she wasn't about to use them as a table for her food. She reached down to grab her bag, to find somewhere else to rest, when something cracked behind her.

Spinning around, she expected to see a person walking up the path, but there was no one. It must have been an animal of some kind. Shaking her head, she went back to looking for a log to sit on.

The sound happened again, this time louder. It wasn't the sound of a twig snapping. It was harsher than that, more metallic.

Hours later, Bria would ask herself why she turned back to the stone; why she felt the need to walk over and look at it and watch a crack form between the runes. But for whatever reason, she did just that.

Looking down at the stone before her, her brows pulled tight in confusion, she watched it crack. How could a solid stone just crack like that? It didn't make sense.

With a quick glance around her, looking for what, she didn't know, Bria bent over to get a closer look. Before she knew what was happening, a force far stronger than herself pulled her towards the stone. And then she was falling — falling through the stone.

She landed hard, the air in her lungs leaving her in a huff. Her ears were ringing so loud she could barely register anything else. Coughing, she dug her hands into the wet dirt beneath her, pushing herself up onto all fours. Only when she looked up did she realize the ringing in her ears wasn't inside her own head — it was the sound of swords clashing.

On all sides of her, a battle like the ones she saw in movies was taking place. Men in leather and armor swung giant-looking swords in the air, holding shields up to deflect the blows of their enemies. Bodies lay on the ground in mounds; the smell of blood on the air was palpable. A thud beside her had her head whipping to the side. Laying in the mud only a foot away was a beast unlike anything she had ever seen. Horns sprouted from its skull; fangs could be seen peaking out from its green-colored lips. Its eyes, frozen in death already, were blood red.

Now, Bria prided herself for not being a woman who startled easily. She rarely screamed, lest it was at a haunted house on Halloween. But the scream that ripped itself from her throat was something more primal than she had ever heard. Pushing herself away, she landed hard on her butt as she put as much space between the monster and herself as possible. It wasn't until she ran into something solid behind her that she stopped. Swallowing the second scream that wanted to escape, she looked up.

A man looked down at her, not a beast. A beard covered his lower face; his long hair, that she could see had been braided back, was messy and coming a part. Blood bloomed on a cut to his forehead. His brows were pulled tight in a fierce expression; his lips drawn down in the corners.

It was only when she looked into his crystal blue eyes did she realize how quiet it was. Looking away from the man whose legs were solid against her back, she surveyed the battlefield. Every man and beast had stopped in their tracks and were looking at her. Some had tears running down their bloody cheeks, others appeared to be praying. The beasts themselves looked like they were ready to eat her.

Everything after that happened so quickly her rattled brain couldn't process it. As if a horn had been blown, every man and beast jumped into action. The monsters ran for her, their claws outstretched, while the warriors in armor got between them. Strong arms were around her, lifting her from the bloody ground. Only when her legs were put around a horse did her brain wake up.

The man with the striking blue eyes put her arms around the person in front of her, the horse tossed its head from side to side. His eyes met hers for a brief moment before his gruff voice spoke to the person with the reigns, "Get her to city. Now!"

The sounds of battle quickly diminished as the horse beneath her galloped at full speed towards the city. But it wasn't any kind of city that she was used to.

It looked more like a village — every bit of Viking and Norse history she knew coming back to her in waves. A ditch had been dug around the tall wooden walls. A single bridge connected the city to the other side. The closer they got, the higher the walls became. They had looked to be a head or so taller than her, but upon closer inspection, she realized they were at least ten feet high. A giant wooden door quickly approached and she had a moment of panic that they were going to run into it, but at the last second is swung open, admitting her into the belly of the city.

Once inside the city walls, the woman — Bria now realized — did not slow the horse. They rode through the streets at full speed, the wind whipping at Bria's face. But even despite that, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the world around her.

Tunics, leggings, boots, and cloaks were all she could see through the masses of people that watched as they rode by. The buildings were made of wood, sod roofs on most with a few wood ones dotting the area. The smell of horses and other animals filled her nose, along with a scent of sewage on the breeze.

As the buildings began to thin, a mountain just like the one back home near Oslo broke out from behind the roofs. Its peak reaching high into the sky, like it was trying to catch the perfect white clouds as they floated by. Bria was beginning to wonder where the hell she was being taken when the horse finally began to slow at the bottom of a hill. Sitting there atop the hill, with a view of the entire city, was a long hall with a stone castle attached to the back of it.

The front, looking like a traditional Longhouse from history books, was made of wood with a sod roof. The stone beyond that created a modest castle-like building. But it didn't look anything like the castles Bria had seen while traveling in England. It was box-like, only two stories, and had no spires at the corners. It looked imposing and cold.

Swinging her leg over the horse's neck, the woman in front of her looked up and offered a hand. "Come on, we need to get you inside."

Being able to see the woman's face, Bria took a moment to study her. She couldn't have been any older than Bria herself. She had long blonde hair, braided here and there with gold pieces keeping it together. Her skin was dirty and bloody, just like everyone else's had been on the battlefield. A sword was strapped to her hip. But she had a kind face, with warm brown eyes, and a small smile on her lips.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

It was only then that Bria realized she was drenched in blood.