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Part I - FIMBULWINTER

© Paul Christy

Fimbulwinter: thirty months of unending ice and snow that herald the arrival of Ragnarok, Twilight of the Gods, when the Gods and Giants would rage across the land engulfing all humankind in one final cataclysmic battle.

Through the ages countless tales had been told and retold about the final, ultimate battle. But only one legend spoke of a way to avoid Ragnarok. Ancient prophecy, distilled from the mad ravings of a lunatic monk, spoke of the Altar of Tyr, God of War. According to the legend, on the eve of Ragnarok humankind may be spared terrible destruction by the sacrifice of a brave, willing warrior upon Tyr's Altar. Only in this manner would mankind gain a respite, a thousand years of peace, before the great cycle of the universe brought the chance of Ragnarok around once more.

Snorri and Engakai walked slowly but surely through the deep snow at the base of Mount Krath, searching for the Altar of Tyr. On the dawn of the final day of Fimbulwinter, the day before Ragnarok, the sky was dark, filled with two and a half years accumulation of winter storm clouds. Bitter cold tore through the skins and furs the two warriors wore to bite at the flesh underneath.

Snorri was ahead of his tall companion, his stout frame clearing a path through the thigh deep snow. The chill wind whipped his long red hair around the fur-lined helm he wore. Engakai followed close behind, his long legs lifting easily above the snow. The deep black skin of his face was a striking contrast to the snow-covered landscape surrounding them. Gray patches showed on his high cheekbones and nose -- the onset of frostbite. The Maasai warrior ignored the spreading numbness, intent on their quest.

The terrible winter had long since covered over any path that may have existed, but Snorri had been to the Altar once many years ago, when his grandfather brought him to dedicate the young Viking to the God of War. Now, he led his companion along a half-remembered route, over hills and through narrow valleys, moving steadily up the shoulder of the mountain. The two men struggled through the snow throughout the morning and into the afternoon, never pausing, pushing on despite their freezing fatigue.

In the late afternoon Snorri and Engakai followed a small ravine to the edge of a steep cliff. A narrow ledge ran along the cliff, around a massive outcrop of rock and out of sight.