Chapter 9
Two days later Gonir and Helga came to him while everyone was gathered for dinner by the hearth wishing to be rejuvenated to their youths again.
"Gonir. Helga," he said, gaining their full attention. The crowd fell silent, listening intently. "Tell me, why would you want to be young again?"
They looked at each other, and Erik could see a whole conversation pass between them in that single look. Helga gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, gesturing for Gonir to speak first.
The old carpenter and shipwright stepped forward and the familiar showman's flourish was gone. His shoulders, usually set for a punchline, were now squared with a weight Erik had never seen in him
"Laddie," A soft smile touched Gonir's lips, smoothing the deep wrinkles around his eyes.
"Oh, I have lived a long life.
A loooong and fruitful life
. A life made of splinters and sawdust and crying babes and winters that stole half my hair. Good times, tough but good"
He giggled, then sobered in an instant.
"But inside me?" — he tapped his chest hard — "Inside me there are still boats I have not built! Dreams I never carved! Ideas that came to me like shy spirits… and I never chased them, no! Because I was busy feeding mouths, patching roofs, building boats and keeping our village alive in the unforgiving winter years"
He spread his hands, wiggling his fingers as if releasing invisible birds, his eyes gleaming with a fire Erik had never seen before.
"Now all my children are grown up and they continue my work. My woman has gone to the old gods and probably complains to them about my snoring even now… so why shouldn't I build again? Why shouldn't I make ships so big they frighten the waves? Ships the kneelers boast about in their stone towns!"
His grin sharpened.
"I want to
see the world, Erik. Always have. I want to see what strange and wonderful things other hands have shaped. Before my bones become dust."
"That does sound interesting," Erik said, nodding with genuine respect. "I can also help you in the designing and building of ships. We could create something new, something the world has never seen." He then turned to the elderly woodswitch. "And you, Helga? What would you do?"
All eyes turned to her. She stood straight, her flinty eyes sweeping over the assembled villagers before settling on Erik.
"You all know I sometimes get prophetic dreams," she stated, her voice dry but strong. Seeing the nods of confirmation from those around her, she continued. "A month before you arrived, I had a dream. In it, I saw a figure dressed in green, riding atop a great stag. He was glowing from an inner light, and I could hear the winds whispering that this was the champion, the chosen of the old gods." She locked her gaze with Erik's, her flinty eyes locked with his, and Erik felt the force of her conviction like a physical push.
"And it shows" she said "all you've ever done is help. It is simply who you are and it would be an honor to serve you"
"You ask me what I would do?" She asked "It is obvious. I would follow you wherever you would go, for you are the Old god's Chosen. You are their light that will guide us out of the dark we live in"
A reverent murmur rippled through the crowd. Erik realized her testimony was more powerful than any miracle. He saw it in their eyes; her testimony was weaving his arrival into the fabric of their destiny.
Erik looked from Gonir's rekindled ambition to Helga's unwavering faith. The first stones of his foundation had been laid.
He turned without another word and walked back to his treehouse. Behind him, the silence was thick, heavy with the future he had just offered them.
Erik didn't need to look back to know they were watching him—seeing not a stranger, but the seed of something vast, something dangerous, something holy.
Now he would see which souls in this worn-down village were brave enough—or desperate enough—to water it.
The seed had been planted. Now, he would see which souls in this worn-down village were brave enough, or desperate enough, to water it.
----
Word had run through the village like sparks through dry moss, Erik the old gods' champion, the life weaver would grant youth to the old carpenter and the witch of the woods. Some whispered in awe, others in fear, and some in envy.
When dawn came, pale and cold and quiet, mist clinging low to the earth, lit faintly by the rising sun.
Gonir, Helga and Erik stood in front of the weeping heart tree surrounded by almost all the villagers.
'These people seriously lack forms of entertainment' Erik thought equally amuseda and annoyed 'Who would've thought the whole village would come to watch. All they're missing is popcorn and sodas in hand'
He turned his attention to the task at hand and looked at the two elderly standing before him.
"You're both sure?" Erik asked Gonir and Helga
Gonir nodded at once, eyes bright with a wild, almost childlike intensity.
"Aye," he said, voice lilting with that odd, eager tremor he always had. "Let's see what threads you pluck from the loom of life today, eh?"
Helga only gave a thin, knowing smile.
"Champion," she murmured, "I was sure the moment I saw you turn old Thor into a swaggering young stallion again."
Erik took a steadying breath.
Erik mentally called Hakuna and his mate to the clearing. The villagers parted and cleared a path for them. People pointed curiously at the bulging shapes that hung from their backs. They stopped near Erik who pulled a pair of brain dead dear off their backs.
"I will need sacrifice for this" Erik said loudly pointing at the deers "The deer are freshly caught and their life force will be needed to rejuvenate Gonir and Helga. Gonir lie down on the ground"
Then, softer to Gonir he said "Lie down and stay still. Do not resist anything you feel. And try not to move."
Gonir swallowed but nodded and lied down.
Erik raised his hands and put one on Gonir and the other on a deer.
Erik mentally mapped the old man's body—bone, sinew, the tired heart that had hammered through seventy winters, the lungs that had tasted brine and smoke, the joints worn thin by tools and storms.
Then Erik started reversing the damage done to the DNA and repaired its capacity to fix them. Alongside that he started repairing and replacing all the damaged old cells and tissues and muscles making them young and vibrant again.
And as he rejuvenated more of Gonir's body, the deer on the other hand shriveled and dried.
The old man gasped.
His spine straightened as if a great weight had been pulled off him. The liver-spots on his hands faded. Muscles tightened. His breath grew deeper, fuller.
His Bald head grow hair darkened by slow degrees, steel-grey deepening into the rich brown of his youth. Wrinkles smoothed like softened clay. The stoop that had shadowed his walk for twenty years evaporated.
When it was over, Gonir staggered, staring at his own hands as if they belonged to another.
"By the old gods! I feel like someone put fire in my veins!" Erik proclaimed happily
Erik steadied him. "Careful. Your balance will return in a moment. Your body remembers how to be young faster than your mind does."
Gonir stared at his hands, his face splitting into a wild, boyish grin.
"Oooh! Oooh-ho-ho! Look at this! Look at ME!"
He flexed, then hopped once—actually hopped—like a mad heron.
"By the trickster gods! By the laughing gods! I feel like someone put fire in my veins!"
He struck a dramatic pose.
"I AM GONIR THE YOUNG AGAIN! The waves will fear me, the trees will shudder at my approach, and the nails—oh the nails! —will once again bow before my hammer in a single strike!"
Gonir laughed—an unrestrained, incredulous bark of joy. He punched the air, marveling at the strength in his arm.
Helga's eyes glimmered with reflected light.
"My turn then," she said.
Erik turned to her, but paused.
"Helga… are you certain you want this?" Erik asked one final time
"I am old," she replied. "I have lived long enough to know what I want. And I will not follow you on brittle bones."
He nodded. She lied down in front of him
Putting one hand on her and the other on the last deer, he repeated the process
As before everyone as the deer shriveled and dried, Helga's skin flushed with warmth. Her breath hitched. The years fell away from her like leaves in a thaw.
The stoop in her back straightened. Her silver hair deepened to storm-grey, then further still into a dark blond touched only faintly with white. Her cheeks filled out; the hard lines of age softened, then vanished entirely, reshaping her into a woman untouched by the grinding weight of years.
She stood tall—
big-boned, broad-shouldered, and undeniably powerful. She was neither beautiful not ugly just looked full of energetic vitality.
When Erik finished, Helga opened her eyes.
They were the same flinty blue—but sharper now
. Alive.
She pressed her palms together, inhaled deeply, and smiled a small, dangerous smile.
"Ah," she murmured. "I remember this."
Gonir barked a laugh. "Hel! You look like you're about to charm a bear!"
He circled around her, gawking, hands flying in wild gestures.
"Ohhh, the years have run away from you like frightened goats! If you smile too wide, you'll summon spring!"
She nudged him lightly and he stumbled back three steps.
"HA! See? I knew it! Too strong! This is going to be fun."
They both erupted into laughter like two children who had just shared a secret joke.
Erik stepped back, letting them bask in their returned youths.
Gonir flexed his hands. "I could build a dozen ships! We'll travel the world and see its wonders!"
Helga lifted her chin. "And I could walk to the ends of the earth behind our gods' champion."
Erik felt their gratitude like heat on his skin, but he also felt the weight of it. Promises. Expectations. Futures shifting.
What he had done could not be undone.
He looked at them—reborn, renewed, ready for the world—and spoke quietly:
"Do not waste this. I didn't give you back the years to repeat the same ones."
Helga placed a hand on his arm, gentle but sure.
"We won't." Helga replied seriously." How can they be wasted now with you to lead us as the old gods will it. Gonir?" she asked her newly rejuvenated friend.
"Oh, don't you worry, Erik-the-death stopper. We will not waste
anything. No, no, no…"
He tapped Erik's chest gently with a single finger.
"You have given us time. And time my friend is the most dangerous gift of all." He grinned, sharp and bright. "We will build your future. And mine. And hers. And maybe even something so strange the gods themselves will be forced to take notice"
Erik exhaled, tension slipping from his shoulders.
"Good. Then go. Let the village see you." Erik replied "And after that start getting preparations done to leave the village"
"When do we leave?" Helga asked
"We still have some time. A week maybe more. I have some things I want to do for the village" Erik replied
----
The next day, Erik found Chief Frode outside his longhouse, making arrows while the morning mist curled low around the village. Unfortunately, Elder Agnar and Ullar, Captain of the village were also there.
The old warriors glanced up as Erik approached.
"You've that look again," Frode grunted. Ullar nodded
"What look?" Eik asked
"The look that means you've got some crazy idea" Chief sighed "the look that means more headache for me as some of them stubborn old coots in the elder council hate whatever change you want to bring"
Erik smiled. "For their benefit, this time. I want to begin a project—one that will help the village for years to come."
Frode set the half-finished arrow aside. "Go on then. Tell me what new miracle you are about to perform"
"No miracle. It's Just knowledge. I want to teach your people how to make salt," Erik said. "Our own salt. Not traded in bits and handfuls form the crows at East watch castle but made here form the sea water."
Elder Agnar's brows rose. "Salt? From the sea? Madness"
"Exactly from the sea. Isn't the sea water salty? It's because it has salt in it. We just need to remove the water. It's simple, but it takes time and effort. If you allow it, I'll show them how. But I'll need hands—volunteers. A few strong backs who can listen and work."
Frode eyed him for a long moment, stroking his beard. "You're telling me you can pull salt out of seawater like a wizard conjures fire."
"No magic," Erik said. "Just knowledge. And it will mean better food, better trade, and better winters."
A slow grin tugged at the chief's face. "You've healed and saved people here, given us venison that your beasts bring in daily enough to feed everyone. You've taught our children letters and while I don't get why they need it, if the kids are happy and are kept busy that's good enough for me."
"And now you want to teach us how to pull salt out of seawater." The Old Chief stated " Why do all this for us? What's in it for you"
'Why is he asking these questions now? This so is unlike him. Something's not right" Erik thought as he assessed the situation looking at Chief Frode, Elder Agnar and Captain Ullar reading their body language before coming to a conclusion swiftly.
'I see it now' Erik thought 'the Chief's asking these questions to quell the doubts and whispers that are being spread in the village, most likely by Elder Agnar and his friends. He's hoping I could quell some of the doubts'
"It's quite simple really" Erik replied "The way you have lived and survived for centuries might have been good enough up until now but it's not enough for the challenges of the grim future. The old gods see this and have sent me as their champion, as their voice if you will to reward all their loyal followers knowledge to build a better and stronger future. Applying that knowledge means thins will have to change."
"Hah! Fair enough." Frode stood with a grunt pointed ignoring the glaring Agnar "Very well. You'll have your helpers."
"Who will you send me?" Erik asked
Frode tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You'll have One eyed Korb—he's old but steady enough. He'll help keep everyone pointed in the right direction. And old Hrolf the fisherman, because he's smart and listens better than most. He will learn it best"
He paused, then added, "Runa as well, if she'll go. Sharp mind on that one, and she works harder than half the men, especially after you fixed her hunch back and deformity…. she fancies you now, you know"
Erik nodded. Runa was a hunchback young woman with facial deformities. She had dark hair and violet eyes. She had approached him and begged to be made normal. He's fixed her and to everyone's surprise she turned out to be gorgeous and beneath that shy awkward demeanor was a hardworking and intelligent young woman. His scans of her body also indicated that too had the potential to wield magic.
'Viollet eyes, magical potential. Possible Valyrian descent' he thought 'though I did take some guilty pleasure in tweaking her face to match another fictional character I know of' Erik thought briefly before returning hiss focus to the conversation.
Erik nodded. "That's three. I think I'll need a few more"
"You'll need hands for this," Elder Agnar said. "Strong ones. Hard-working ones." His eyes gleamed with false helpfulness. "Chief! Why not take
those three young men?" at his questioning gaze he elaborated "Bjorni, Kalf, and little Torfi"
Chief Forde raised a brow. "Them? They barely manage their own chores."
Agnar shrugged innocently. "Then this is a chance for them to… learn discipline."
Erik met Agnar's gaze. He recognized a trap when he saw one—but he also recognized opportunity.
"Very well," he said. "I'll take them."
Erik knew the trio of troublemakers Bjorni the loudmouth, little Torfi the sneak, and Kalf the would-be jokester.
"Those three smart devils—Bjorni, Kalf, and little Torfi. Barely old enough to shave, yet old enough to ignore every chore given to them." Frode shook his head. "They skip their work then go stir up trouble in every corner of the village, and I swear by the gods they think mischief is a sacred duty."
Erik tried not to smile. "And you want me to take them?"
"Aye," Agnar said firmly "If anyone can turn their energy into something useful, it'll be you. And if nothing else, the sea might tire them out enough to give everyone a quiet evening."
Erik folded his arms, considering. "They won't want to dig salt pans. Not willingly."
"No they won't" Chief Frode said grinning ."Then you'll have to make them want to."
Erik let out a low breath. "So, three strong backs, no discipline, and a talent for chaos. Two old men and a young woman"
"That's the lot," Agnar said with mock sincerity, as if presenting a challenge that was impossible to accomplish
A faint, amused smile crept across Erik's face. "All right. I'll take them. But when they come complaining, don't blame me."
Frode barked a laugh. "Ha! I get plenty of complaint about them every day. I'd welcome a change of tune."
The chief clapped him on the shoulder with a heavy, approving hand. "They'll meet you at the shore tomorrow. Good luck getting them to work."
"I'll manage," Erik said, though he knew he'd just inherited more trouble than labor.
Frode nodded once, pleased. "I've come to trust your strange ideas, Erik. Let's see if you can tame those boys"
Early next morning Erik led half a dozen villagers and led them down to the tideline. The group trailed behind him with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, boots sinking into the damp sand. Even the three troublemakers—Bjorni, Kalf, and little Torfi—skulked after the others, wearing matching looks of boredom that fooled no one.
Erik stopped where the long waves licked the sandy flats. His wolf padded quietly at his side, pale eyes watchful. Kahuna, the towering stag, stood a little farther back, antlers catching the morning light like blades.
"Here," Erik said, planting the heel of his staff into the wet ground. "This is where I'll teach you—and where we'll make our own salt."
The villagers exchanged looks. Salt was something they traded for, begged for, sometimes fought over. To make it themselves sounded like sorcery.
One eyed Korb frowned. "From the sea?"
"From the sea," Erik said with a small smile. "The sea gives everything if you know how to ask. And we're going to ask properly."
He knelt and began drawing shallow pools and channels into the wet sand. Old Hrolf leaned in. Runa crouched closer, studying the shapes with interest. The three boys hovered behind them, whispering.
Bjorni nudged Kalf whispering. "Bet we can slip away once they start digging."
Kalf grinned. "Aye. Before we're dragged into—"
A sudden, low rumble made both boys freeze. Erik's wolf had stepped up behind them, staring with flat, unimpressed eyes.
Little Torfi squawked, "We weren't gonna do nothing!"
Erik didn't look up. "Good. Then you'll stay and learn something useful today."
Torfi muttered, "You saw that thing's teeth?"
"Work," the wolf seemed to say with its stare alone.
Erik continued drawing. "We'll build pans here—low, wide, and flat. The sun does most of the work. Tide fills them, warmth dries them. Water leaves, salt stays."
A murmur rippled through the group.
Runa folded her arms, her voice rich in new confidence
"So simple," she said, "yet no one here thought of it. Fascinating." "So simple," Erik replied. "But simple doesn't mean easy."
Behind them, Kalf tried to wander off toward the dunes.
Kahuna let out a resonant snort and lowered his magnificent antlers in his direction— and stomped a hoof hard
Kalf nearly fell over. "I—I was just stretching!"
Bjorni grabbed him by the tunic. "Don't move unless he tells us to! That beast will toss you into the sea!"
"You may stretch later" Runa smirked, her tone velvet and sharp "when we aren't watching you blunder about like startled poultry. Now focus on Life weaver's words"
For a moment, the villagers stared at the drawn shapes in the sand, as though glimpsing quiet magic.
Then One eyed Korb rolled up his sleeves. "Well then… where do we start?"
Erik stood, brushing sand from his hands. "First? We dig."
The villagers set to work. Some eager. Some curious. And the three boys—kept firmly in line by one watchful wolf and one giant stag—begrudgingly dug as well.
Every time Bjorni slowed, the wolf huffed behind him.
Every time Torfi tried to sneak a handful of wet sand at someone, Kahuna's shadow loomed over him.
Every time Kalf muttered rebellion, Erik simply looked at him—and the boy went silent.
Together they carved the first salt pans into the shoreline—building not only shallow basins in the sand, but the first lesson in responsibility for three young mischief-makers… under the very firm supervision of tooth and antler.
Runa, Hrolf's dark-haired daughter, lingered close, her eyes bright with interest. "You think of things no one else ever has," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Makes a girl wonder what else you can teach."
Erik chuckled, pretending not to notice the way she was watching him. "Plenty. But one thing at a time."
She leaned in just a little. "Then I hope you're patient with slow learners."
"You haven't seemed slow so far," he replied, keeping his voice light.
Runa smiled at that—slow, pleased, and very deliberate. She turned to look at the pans
"In the pans we just dug… the salt will just appear?" she asked, though her tone made it sound less like a question and more like an invitation for him to keep talking.
"In time," Erik answered, grinning. "But first—fill it with seawater."
Buckets splashed as they hauled the cold brine from the surf. Soon the pit shimmered with trapped water, glittering under the sun. Erik stood, brushing sand from his palms.
"Let the sun and wind work for us. When the water dries, the salt will remain."
The group went quiet. Then excited whispers broke out.
"Will this truly work?" Kalf asked.
"Hush!" Hrolf hissed. "Erik's a clever one—and champion of the gods. If he says salt will come, then it will. Have Faith!"
Runa drifted to Erik's side again. "Clever
and modest," she said softly. "Dangerous combination."
He glanced at her. "Dangerous how?"
Her smile widened. "Makes it terribly hard to look anywhere else."
Before he could reply, the three idiots splashed each other with seawater and mud, breaking the moment. The villagers worked the rest of the morning shaping and filling a dozen new pans. By midday, a pale crust had already begun forming at the edges of the first pit.
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