Chapter 1: A Hand's Turn

Scuffling just out of sight, the creature sniffed the air and reared its head. It caught their scent. Armed with leathery black skin, disappearing into the shadows of the forest was a simple task. The people it was hunting had no such talent.

Among the people, a shorter figure in the front froze. The rustling in the forest threatened to cloud his judgment.

"Rekkr," a voice said, trying to jar the leader out of his trance. Rekkr raised a finger to where his lips would be behind a thick mask. He then flattened his hand in a halting motion.

Soon everyone in the group could hear twigs snapping. Though the sound was slight, they could tell it was coming from the thick brush around them. The path they followed seemed to become darker as they waited for orders.

Rekkr looked up from the ground, breaking his train of thought. The village was in sight; though that was no statement. Anyone with the gift of vision could see the smoke from miles away, considering the town was submerged in flames. Screams from that direction made the warriors sweat, but their leader commanded patience.

He turned slowly and faced his pack of warriors. His party found comfort in his masked face, for they couldn't see a reflection of their own fear in him.

Pointing a gloved hand at the back portion of the crowd, Rekkr swept his hand in front of him and jerked his thumb at the burning village. His group understood immediately, and half of them edged forward to get a head start.

Arching his back and keeping his ears alert, he touched the hilt of his sword. If it tried to attack while his warriors moved ahead, at least they would be able to know where it was.

Ice pumped through the Rekkr's veins, despite the animal skin hood covering his face and fastening at his chin. He could hear the creature's inhumane gasps of oxygen. Like a ghost passing by, the sounds it made were faint and haunting. The sound of the villagers was drowned out as the creature distorted the space around it, dulling their senses.

Time was fleeting, and those people needed help. The creature sensed Rekkr's dilemma and his longing to help the people he was sent to protect. Additionally, it smelt his fear. It was rich, palpable even. Thin fingers that ended in sharp claws scratched the ground while it crept up on him from behind. He was too busy staring at the burning village to notice the humanoid creature dragging itself out of the shadows.

Taking another daring step, the beast was pleased that the warriors were too overcome by fear to notice. Their eyes were wide and erratic as they searched, not realizing it was at their heels...

Their leader looked at the flames, and he grit his teeth. A child was wailing for his mother …

A warrior glanced over to where the creature was and stiffened. The sheer size of it was enough to render a grown man speechless.

The creature looked into the eyes of the soldier. Unable to move, he stood rigid as its bleak eyes drew him in, then spat him out. With a sinking heart, he couldn't breathe, much less defend himself.

Crawling even closer, it took three good men before one was able to draw his sword and slash a mark into its midnight black skin.

The leader didn't turn around when he heard one of his men scream in horror. A disturbing gnashing sound and the growl of a feral animal made Rekkr deduce it was just out of reach. If only the thing came a bit closer, he could turn around, avoiding its eyes, and kill it.

One of his men kicked the thing in the chest, and it landed on the ground behind Rekkr. Brandishing his weapon in a fluid swing, he spun and looked at the hideous creature sprawled on its back. A writhing organ pumped blood beneath its transparent under skin. Grimacing, Rekkr plunged his sword through the beast and into the ground below it.

He allowed his sword to rest in its body for a second as the charged atmosphere gave way to relief. Making a sweeping gesture with his hand, Rekkr finished the motion in the direction of the burning village. Still unstable, his warriors sheathed their weapons and wiped their stricken faces before trudging forward.

Opting to steady his racing thoughts, Rekkr squatted over the body of the overgrown Mare and dared to look into its hollow eyes. Its immensity scared him half to death. Whatever was sending these terrors were somehow making them larger. Rekkr looked at the blood on his sword, then sheathed it.

They could bleed. That was all that mattered.

Sprinting to where his men had poured out of the forest, smoke seeped into the mesh of his mouth. Escaping the thick brush, he met pandemonium. His soldiers had found a well and were trying to bring up water to contain the flames, but the fire was ungodly. It writhed with a mind of its own, not hearing the cries of the villagers who watched their lives go up in smoke.

Hesitance in his steps, Rekkr got closer to a group of people his soldiers were just beginning to push away from danger. Without saying a word, he pointed to a swamp nearby, and his warriors instantly began herding the mass of people towards it. Perhaps the dampness of the marsh would protect them.

Knowing that the roaring fire would destroy the entire village, the attempts to put it out were not only futile but pathetic as well. He had a feeling that the villagers knew this too.

Leaving his men to throw water on the rampant flames, Rekkr unclasp the large cape pinned to his pauldron. It's only purpose was to display status, and where he was going there was no need. With a mind filled with determination, the leader dared to run head first into the burning village.

Smoke was everywhere, but he choked it down to find anyone who might be trapped. Even with his serious disadvantage of being wrapped in cloth from head to foot, Rekkr danced dangerously close to the bonfire. Admiration for the structure of the village grew as he followed the dirt paths that were void from flames. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he kicked down the doors of houses that were still standing.

A piece of wood fell onto his narrow shoulder, and he was brought to his knees. Rekkr pushed the burnt board off of him and staggered to his feet. He was adjusting his disheveled scabbard as something in the corner of his eye moved, then began to scuttle towards him.

A small Mare the size of his head launched itself at him. Stepping aside at the last moment, the creature jumped onto a pile of embers. He kicked it away, not caring where it landed after he did so. The smaller beast seemed pitiful compared to the larger one Rekkr had killed, but he knew that these ones never attacked alone.

Sure enough, more Mares crept out of their hiding places, seemingly unaffected by the ferocious heat. Their eerie eyes reflected the flames, and the sight of them resembled demons ready to drag him to Hel.

Spreading his feet apart and brandishing his sword, he wished he could wipe his eyes free from sweat. Smoke was permanently in his lungs, and the adrenaline of battle coursed through his veins.

He swung his sword to intercept a Mare that jumped at him. After seeing their comrade being cut clean in half, the other Mares became more hostile. Hissing as their hides baked in the unbearable heat, the Mares dug their clawed hands into the ground and bared their fangs.

Before they could organize a proper attack, the ground shook violently, throwing them left and right. Rekkr bent his knees in an attempt to stay standing.

A large man fell from the sky, and Rekkr barely had time to jump out of his way before he landed in the place he once was. Adorned in a vibrant red cape and swinging a massive hammer, the man rose to his full height. The chainmail that was alien to Rekkr's own glinted along with the sweat dripping off of his long blond hair. He barely spared Rekkr a look where he lay, sprawled on the ground. Twisted in horrible kind of delight that was clearly bloodlust, the man's face screwed into concentration. He then launched himself into the air, away from the flames.

Rekkr was thankful that the man had stopped the Mares, but his more pressing problem was breathing. Not able to rise due to the thick air that clogged his lungs and stiffened his joints, Rekkr felt his body screaming in protest. How ironic; he was the only one who needed assistance.

Fortunately for him, a hand gripped his forearms and hauled him to his feet. Too tired to see who his saviour was, his mouth could not form a thank you. Instead, he allowed himself to be carried out of the fire and laid beside the rest of the idle villagers.

Barely conscious and half delirious, Rekkr could only feel the desire to remove his helmet and the fabrics around his body. Apparently, a group of villagers who were kind enough to be concerned thought so too.

"Take off his helmet," a woman's voice commanded. Rekkr did not have the strength to pull away when he felt hands on his helmet. "He's going to die if we don't cool him down!"

"No!" Rekkr recognized one of his warrior's voices as they intervened just in time. "You mustn't touch any of his armour."

"With all due respect," the woman from before said, her tone fierce. "This man can't survive with all of those clothes over his face-"

"This is not negotiable," the warrior stated firmly. "You are not to remove any of that man's armour."

After silence settled in, Rekkr could hear faint murmurings of questions: Why? What did his face look like? Was it too horrible to look at? He half wished the answer was that simple.

After lying down for too long, Rekkr forced himself to stand up. Motivation to assist his party tapped into the last parts of his energy. He poked his eyes with gloved fingers and sloppily cleaned them. As worrying glances were tossed in his direction, Rekkr tried not to show just how distraught he truly was as he adjusted his helmet and crawled out of the marsh.

His entire group was at the marsh, watching the man with the red cape along with his five companions fight off Mares that were swarming out of the forest. Knowing he had rested for too long, shame threatened to swallow him whole. The King was right, he wasn't ready for this.

Pushing aside his emotions, one of his soldiers pointed out motion coming from the forest. Another wave of beasts. There were so many of them. Sprinkled in were the gargantuan ones he had seen before as well. Where were they coming from? Why here? Why now?

Taking a deep breath, he held up his hand to his soldiers, informing them that he was going, and they were staying.

Reaching to the nape of his neck, he walked rigidly towards the forest. Every step he took was another nail in his coffin, and the glinting eyes of the creatures told him so. Already weak from the fire, his limbs were heavy. He grabbed hold of something solid and pulled out a quill-sized metal rod.

As he held it in his hand, he could feel the magic underneath his fingertips. What a wonderful feeling it was, although the circumstances in which he felt it was always awful. After all, he was warned to only use it in the case of emergencies.

The rod grew into a large staff with gnarled roots and the magic extended to each end, enveloping any metal that might have been there. With shallow breaths, he gripped it tightly and neared the forest

Six. There were six warriors, all mighty in their own respective ways. The large man holding a hammer grunted and smiled as he flattened any Mare in his path. Another blond man with arrows shot them in the blink of an eye. His companion destroyed them with his mace, but even they weren't enough for a number of enemies that were still coming.

With a break in the onslaught came time for the warriors to take a breath. The only woman among the group, who had a thin layer of soot in her midnight hair, sized up the Mares in the forest and allowed apprehension to enter her eyes.

"Those things are bigger than the others," she stated, looking at her companions uneasily. By the looks in their eyes, they shared her concern. "I've never seen any so big."

"Nor have I," another man said, looking at the cape-clad one with piercing green eyes. "Don't be stupid, brother. Those things are only slightly smaller than you."

"Don't patronize me, Loki, I can see them," he snarled, his eyes never leaving the forest. "And they're not so different from the small ones. They are the same creature, after all."

"How could you possibly know that, Thor?" Loki demanded, walking past the nervous woman and standing beside his brother. His hair glinted off of the hazy light, and his sharp features were twisted in scorn. "You said you can see them, but do you? There's something different about these ones."

"We were sent here for a reason," Thor said, looking down at the man with a disappointed expression. "If we cannot fight them, who will? Rise to this challenge, brother. You have to once in a while."

"Who the Hel is that?" the other blond man exclaimed, pointing out Rekkr, who was standing before the creatures with courage in his posture. "Do you see what he's holding?"

"A staff," another man said, scratching his red beard and squinting at him. "But what does he … oh dear. They're coming closer to him."

The group, who mistook the leader for a madman, sprung forward, earnest to stop him from being trampled by the daunting amount of creatures crawling towards him.

Not sharing their concern as a strange sense of calm overcame him, Rekkr twirled the stick in his hands, just as he practiced. Spinning it so quickly that a spark erupted from the pole, it quickly turned into a weapon.

The creatures jumped back in surprise, and he stopped spinning it. Instead, he began to swipe it forwards, causing the creatures to recoil backward, desperate to escape the invisible torment.

Twirling and shaking the staff to and fro, he extended his arms so the creatures could see that they were not getting past him. The staff hummed and they crawled over themselves to retreat back into the woods. Commanding them to leave with a striking air of authority, he watched them scurry out of sight, back to where they came from.

Rekkr fully extended his arm and watched the staff retract back into a metal rod. While pocketing the small staff, sounds of cheering reached his ears. Turning and seeing his warriors unsheathing their swords and raising them to the sky, he felt meekness rise in his throat. He offered a wave of thanks for their support, despite knowing they were only happy to show off that they did not need other warriors to solve their problems.

His other audience, the six warriors, were more shocked than gleeful. Before any of them could comment on what just happened, they took a few moments to watch Rekkr wave to his warriors.

"That was …" the man with the bow and arrow started, then stopped.

The red haired man said nothing but began strutting towards Rekkr as the woman nodded in approval.

"It was impressive," Loki stated, looking up at his brother cheekily. "Don't you think so?"

Looking fairly taken aback as all the attention was focused on another man, Thor growled under his breath at his brother. Poking fun at such a moment was not wise, but Loki enjoyed it regardless. Ignoring the two brothers, the black-haired woman turned to the only man who had yet to speak thus far.

"It seems, Hogun, that your people are far more capable than we thought," she said. A smile invaded Hogun the grim's face, surprising the woman.

"It seems so indeed, Sif," he replied, an inkling of pride in his voice. Watching Hogun quickly follow the red-haired man, Sif commended her friend's elation with a nod of her head. She then began walking as well.

Rekkr took a deep breath and coughed loudly, worrying about the state of his lungs for only a second. His thoughts were consumed by the cape he had tossed on the ground before entering the fire. How disrespectful that had been, in retrospect. Now that he was thinking about it, how horrible this entire mission turned out to be. He had had to be saved, for Yggdrasil's sake! How was he supposed to explain to the King that he had needed help after Njörd had insisted he wasn't ready?

"Well done!"

The sudden loud voice made Rekkr jump out of his skin, and the smile on the red-headed man's face made him want to disappear. Nodding in thanks, Rekkr tried not to shrink before the man in front of him.

"Truly, that was some spectacular work. I couldn't believe what I was seeing!" he chuckled, his eyes bright despite having blood smeared on his face. What strange warriors these were. "Oh, pardon my manners. The name's Volstagg. Who might you be?"

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Rekkr omitted a heavy cough and touched his throat gingerly. Volstagg understood his dilemma.

"Smoke in your lungs? I can't blame you for that," he said, touching his stomach and taking Rekkr's pathetic reasoning in stride.

As the two of them were joined by more of the warriors, Rekkr felt more and more trapped. A man with a tiny smile on his face bowed to him, and Rekkr did so back.

"I am known as Hogun," the smiling man said while touching the mace on his hip subconsciously. "It is a great honour to meet you."

Extending his hand as a 'you as well' motion, Hogun's face fell. He asked, with alarm in his words: "Are you well?"

When Volstagg explained why Rekkr did not speak, the woman with dark eyes stepped forward and placed her hand over her chest.

"I took you out of that fire, and I apologize for not ensuring you were unharmed," she said. Rekkr mirrored the motion and arched his back in a slight bow as well. "My name is Sif. Lady Sif."

Sif? That name was terribly familiar, and so Rekkr looked over her complexion once more. His thoughts were interrupted by a third man, who just arrived at the tiny gathering.

"I see you have met my companions," he pointed out before extending his hand to shake. "They call me Fandral. I admire your gusto in defeating those beasts. Do tell; how did you do it?"

After shaking the man's hand and sitting through another tiresome explanation on why he could not speak, the final two men arrived.

When they did so, the realization of who these people were dawned on him: the Royal Princes of Asgard, the Warriors Three, and of course, their companion Lady Sif.

Rekkr immediately sank to his knees and placed his fist over his heart in respect. How ridiculous he was for not being aware of this sooner.

"Rise," Prince Thor commanded, his bad mood lightened somewhat at the fact that even this mighty warrior had to bow to him.

Rekkr stood, and looked at the six of them with awed appreciation. He was glad they could not see the bizarre grin underneath his mask. Yet he was also pained. Wishing he could remove his mask so they would share in his joy, he instead showed them his palm in a silent question of what came next.

"As representatives of the AllFather, we would like to discuss a few things with your king," Prince Loki said, stepping forward so Rekkr was forced to focus on him. Although Rekkr nodded, he was far from alright. Simply looking at the prince made a thousand questions run through his mind, but he didn't look terribly different. He always did favour the colour green …

With a sweeping motion, Rekkr invited the warriors to follow him back to the castle, to his King, and to where certain punishment lay.