The Real Loki

It seems that we’ve been inundated lately by the influence of Marvel Comics and Hollywood’s take on the Norse gods. Thor has risen to the top as a super hero, and Loki, incorrectly identified by the movie makers as Thor’s brother, has taken part in the flood-lit stage right beside him. Many movie-goers and comic book readers delight in the entertainment. I’ve even found myself drifting toward the movie theatre for a first hand glimpse at the latest edition to the Avengers, happily finding myself cheering along with the rest of the crowd - it is, with out a doubt, a very enjoyable experience. 

(c) http://thenorsegods.com/loki/

However, avid readers of The Zeke Proper Chronicles, especially those who have read book two, The Serpent’s ship, tend to approach me with the same question: The Loki in your books is very different from the one in the movie. Why is that? The answer is simple. My attempt in writing The Zeke Proper Chronicles is to try and give the reader a glimpse into the mind of a child living in a Danish Village in the year 793 AD. My goal is to allow the reader an opportunity to hear and understand the stories of Odin, Thor, and Loki as they might have been related around a peat burning fire, or within sight of a stone-walled corral where cattle and sheep may have been penned up for the night as protection from wolves and bears. Though entertainment is still my goal, authenticity is a close second.

Abounding in my retelling of the Norse myths are several sections where I take creative liberties. Zeke, Devon, and Taylre often take the place of characters in the myths to give the retelling a focus. Nevertheless, I try to keep it real. In book three, The Gates of Asgard, Zeke finds himself on a quest to locate gold to supplicate the dragon, Nidhogg. The real story, however, features Loki as the raider of treasure as he attempts to find ransom for Otter’s family. Here’s a brief retelling of the actual story:

"Loki came to a silent pool filled with water that seemed to spring from nowhere and flow nowhere.

Loki spread out a finely spun meshed net and cast it into the pool. He pulled it in and there, furiously lashing and writhing, was a large pike snared in the net.

Avoiding its nasty looking teeth, Loki grabbed hold of the pike, shaking it roughly. ‘First,’ he said, looking into its dark yellow eyes, ‘you’ll change shape.’

The pike shivered, quivering in its scaly fish form, when suddenly it changed, the air shimmering around it, and turned into the dwarf Andvari.

'What do you want?‘ whined Andvari.

"What I want is all your gold,’ Loki said. ‘Otherwise I’ll wring you out like a piece of washing.’

Andvari shuddered with fear. He led Loki through a twisting chamber into his smithy. The Dwarf spread out his hands and shrugged.

'Gather it up!’ Loki ordered.

Andvari turned reluctantly and began scrambling around, gathering gold into two large sacks. Then, grunting, he dragged them across the smithy and stood with them in front of Loki.

'What about that ring?’ Loki said, pointing at the dwarf’s tightened fist.

‘Let me keep it,’ Andvari begged. ‘Just this, then I’ll be able to make more gold.’

Loki stepped forward and forced open Andvari’s fist, seizing the ring and stuffing it in the sack. ‘What is not freely given must be taken by force,’ Loki said.

Loki turned and began walking out of the smithy. ‘Take that ring!’ yelled the dwarf, ‘and a curse shall follow it. That and the gold that you forcefully take from me!’

Loki turned around and smiled. ‘If,’ said Loki. ‘If I repeat your words to those who receive this gold, then your curse will come true.’ Then he turned and made his way out of the world of the dark elves into Midgard.”

Loki, a nasty, selfish fellow indeed. But more impish and foolish then superhero. So, take a moment to become familiar with The Zeke Proper Chronicles. Book three will be out soon. When it appears, you’ll have the rest of the story.

Origins of the Korrigan

In Book One of The Zeke Proper Chronicles: Odin’s Light, I introduce readers to a creature that temporarily occupies the deep dark waters of the Stick River. A meandering river located near the ocean side town of Alder Cove, the Stick is a place shrouded in darkness and mystery. Its location is considered haunted. None of the inhabitants of the town of Alder Cove go there - well, almost none of them. It is a site to be shunned and has been for centuries. Why? Because it’s where the Korrigan goes to lie in wait for its payment for years of prosperity - the sacrifice of Alder Cove.

So what exactly is the Korrigan and what are its roots?

Much of what I include in the stories of Zeke Proper are references to Norse mythology. Sort of a retelling of the stories with slightly different characters and circumstances. The Korrigan, however, finds its beginnings in Celtic mythology. Originally found in Irish literature, most of us are probably aware of references to banshees, which actually means "woman of fairy mound" or just simply as "fairy woman". Ban or bean meaning "woman".

(c) Wikipedia Commons

In Irish and Scottish Gaelic folklore traditions the banshee came to mean a female wraith or spirit, whose terrifying howls foretell the death of a particular person in a specific household. This banshee was tied to a person or family, sort of like an attendant fairy. (Note how this coincides with the Proper Family).

In my telling of Odin’s Light, I have taken the myth of the Banshee and combined her with the Breton fairy woman known as the Korrigan, a type of banshee that not only foretells a death, but also causes it. Then, I took this a step further, relating the banshee to the Washer or Washer-woman at the Ford, known in Scottish folklore as “bean nighe”.

"Bean nighe” was a Scottish Gaelic name for the Washer at the Ford. The Washer or Washerwoman can be found in almost every Celtic culture. In the Scottish Gaelic tradition, the washer is the harbinger of death.

According to the Scottish Gaelic tradition, the bean nighe was a woman who died at child birth. She was described as a woman dressed in green, but can be recognized by her webbed feet standing next to a stream or lake, washing bloodstained clothes of those who would die.

Of course there are Celtic myths that surround these creatures and they carry with them the same kind of foreboding that the Korrigan in Odin’s Light carries with it. In this retelling, I take my information from www.timelessmyths.com.

The most common female fairies in the Breton tradition are the korrigans that resided in the woods, especially at Broceliande, often near a stream, spring or fountain. She was a fairy that seeks a mortal lover.

The korrigan was probably a pagan druidess originally. She was equated with gwragedd annwn – the Welsh fairies of the lake and streams.

She tried to seduce mortal men who would drink from her water. Finding them unawares she would attempt to lure a weary traveler to sleep with her. If the man refused her advance or seduction, she would angrily curse him to a doom. This is what happened to the Seigneur of Nann.

The Seigneur was married to a woman whom he loved. One day, his wife asked for some May-blossoms from the forest. The Seigneur rode out, but during his ride, he became thirsty and drank the water from a nearby fountain. Here, the Seigneur encountered the Korrigan who demanded that he sleep with her. But the Seigneur angrily refused because he was faithful to his wife and rode away after hearing that he would die in three days. He turned and rode from the woodland as a man possessed. As he drew homeward he was overshadowed by a sense of coming ill. At the gate of his château stood his mother, anxious to greet him with good news of his bride and the child she would soon bear him. But with averted eyes he addressed her in the refrain so familiar to the folk-poetry of all lands: 

"My good mother, if you love me, make my bed. I am sick unto death. Say not a word to my bride. For within three days I shall be laid in the grave. A Korrigan has done me evil."

The priest, his mother and other people kept the secret of his fate from his wife. Three days later, the Seigneur's mother finally told her daughter-in-law the truth. The wife died of broken heart and was buried beside the Seigneur.

The tragedy that surrounds the evil summons of the Breton Korrigan is also the kind of tragedy that encompasses the lives of Zeke and the rest of his family in Odin’s Light. As you read on in the books that follow in the Zeke Proper Chronicles, you will discover that the appearance of the Korrigan is only the beginning of a very long and arduous journey for the story’s hero.

-Brad

The Warrior Within: Lessons From the Valkyries

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time editing, a process that never seems to end for an author. My first novel, Odin’s Light, will appear very soon in its third edition. The Serpent’s Ship will follow very quickly with its second edition and The Gates of Asgard, the third book in The Zeke Proper Chronicles, is scheduled for its first publication in late September.

The hours I have spent in front of my computer making revisions to my work has allowed me the opportunity to revisit specific scenes in my novels that I am particularly proud. For instance, near the end of The Serpent’s Ship, during an especially intense scene, Zeke faces imminent death. At a moment when it appears that all is at a loss, a miracle happens.

“Finally, Zeke, gaining a measure of courage, took his eyes off Loki, feeling the presence of another person nearby.The woman who appeared to Zeke’s right was beautiful. He stared at her in complete amazement as her still, tall, and slender form, commanded instant authority. Zeke felt an immediate desire to obey whatever command she put forth; her power and strength was at once recognizable.”

Before him, standing regally and authoritatively is one of the Valkyrie. Zeke describes her like this:

“Her hair was long and blond, braided down the length of her back and held fast with a solid gold clasp. Her features were sharp with high cheekbones and her skin was completely unblemished, as if she were Galatea herself, a polished sculpture that would soon take on a life of its own. Her eyes were a striking aqua blue, the color of a warm tropical sea, and from them there seemed to radiate an intensity that held power and confidence. In her left hand, she held a shield bejeweled with what appeared to be rubies and diamonds. In her right, she held a sword that glimmered with a light that shone from the woman herself. Her frame was covered with sparkling armor that extended to her knees, and her feet were shod with sandals, leather straps wrapped crisscross up the length of her calves.”

Norse mythology describes the Valkyrie as a group of twelve women warriors who assist the All Father, Odin, in his task as keeper and gatherer of the fallen warriors - those valiant souls who die bravely in battle. Their mission is to scoop down on the field of war and gather the dieing heroes, transporting their souls to the great halls of Vahalla. Among the Valkyrie are Shaker, Mist, Axe Time and Raging. These also take turns filling Odin’s horn with mead while the other Valkyrie tend to the needs of the fallen warriors as they celebrate by feasting, drinking and fighting in the great hall. It is important to consider that their only focus is to the fallen warrior. They care not for those who have died from age or sickness. It therefore leads one to consider why a Valkyrie would choose to appear to our lowly hero, Zeke Proper.
Near the end of her brief visit with Zeke, the Valkyrie asks a question.

Shaker, the woman, the stalwart figure who stood beside Zeke, shifted her eyes and stared at him. “You must leave the Mist now,” she ordered, her lack of emotion unsettling.“First tell me who are you,” Zeke said. “Where did you come from?”The woman seemed to pause, and though Zeke wasn’t completely sure, because her expressions were subtle, he could have sworn that she was troubled by the direct question. As if it had never happened before.“I am Shaker,” she finally answered. “I am one of the twelve sisters who serve Odin. We are the Valkyrie. It is our charge to watch over the warriors and bring them home to Vahalla.” She stopped speaking and her eyes softened. She turned and looked directly at Zeke.“Are you a warrior, Zeke Proper?”

Zeke is taken back by the question, but answers her simply:

“No,” he answered quietly. “No, I am certainly no warrior.” 

As the story progresses into book three, The Gates of Asgard, Zeke struggles with the question presented by the Valkyrie. Perhaps a bit like we all do when it comes to viewing ourselves through our own eyes. Zeke sees himself as a simple boy, one who is incapable of great deeds. However, the Captain, a most unlikely heroic figure, reminds Zeke what a true hero really is:

‘The Captain took a long draw on his pipe, letting the blue smoke escape from the corners of his mouth, shrouding his wrinkled features in a sagely haze. “You’ve mistaken honor with bravery, lad. Sometimes doing the right thing requires something far beyond mere bravery. The greatest warrior conquers incredible odds not because he’s brave, but because it’s the noble, honorable thing to do. Sometimes our greatest motivator is our integrity and our desire to protect the things that are most precious to us.”’

Sometimes it’s difficult to see beyond our own images in the mirror. We are constantly holding ourselves up to someone else’s standard, unaware that they might be holding themselves up to ours. The lesson we learn from the Valkyrie then, is not that we must be the overwhelming berserker who screams his way into life’s battles, but rather the persistent doer. Battling the difficulties of life is just as important as a true field of conflict. If we persist, perhaps we will one day find ourselves sitting in the great hall of Valhalla while a Valkyrie pours us another horn of mead.

Water Dragons

I recently came across a quote that was rescued from an 8^th century Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Its implications provide a terrifying undertone that borders the fine line of fairytale and reality, invoking an image of horror that might cause a pragmatist to reconsider the truth surrounding the myths.

In this year dire portents appeared over Northumbria and sorely frightened the people. They consisted of immense whirlwinds and flashes of lightning, and fiery dragons were seen flying in the air. A great famine immediately followed those signs, and a little after that in the same year, on 8 June, the ravages of heathen men miserably destroyed God’s church on Lindisfarne, with plunder and slaughter.

The year was 793. The place was Northumbria in the great monastery at Lindisfarne. The attackers were the Vikings.

The writer of the chronicle, probably a Christian monk, must have watched the actions of the assailants that day with a detached sense of reality, suddenly feeling forsaken by his God. Nevertheless, one cannot be too hard on the witness. His peaceful understanding of the world and the sanctity of his religion had just been shattered right in front of him by a foe whose likes had never been seen before.

We’re told by Ken Crossley-Holland, in his book The Norse Myths, that the literal meaning of the word Viking is ‘fighting men’. The word berserk, in fact, was coined by the fighting methods of these warriors. Imagine a horde of men storming over a hill toward your stronghold, perfect in physique, tall, with a reddish hue to their long braided hair, their faces covered in thick beard. They are partially clothed in furs that are draped over one side of their body, leaving one hand free to wield a weapon. Their battle cry is like that of a ferocious animal that sends a shuddering chill up the spines of their enemies. If you are a peasant farmer or a peaceful monk sitting in his cell copying lines of the Bible, a scene like this would be nothing short of horrifying. But then add to that the Viking’s unique mode of transportation.

The Norsemen were superb ship builders. Crossley-Holland reminds us that the ships were “one of the great practical and artistic achievements of pre-Conquest Europe…they were both beautiful in line and very pliable in rough waters.” Again, imagine you are a peasant who has woken early to fish from the nearby river. You walk the short distance from your village and see a large wooden ship skimming smoothly over the shallow water, its overlapping planks sweeping up at either end. It is propelled by oarsmen, perhaps fifteen or sixteen on either side and a square sail. It has an enclosed deck with the warrior’s colored shields hanging in a row over the railings. But the thing that really terrifies you is the elaborately carved prow. A figurehead in the shape of a dragon. It’s no wonder our chronicler warned of “fiery dragons…flying in the air”. No doubt his first impression of this new breed of attacker was that the gates of hell had been unbolted and that the dragons had been released, both to sail through the air and to float on the water.

-Brad

Guest Blog by Pam Bainbridge-Cowan

This week, I am excited to host a fellow author and friend, Pam Bainbridge-Cowan. Pam is the author of The Butterfly--Book one in the Yetzirah: The Pocket Worlds series. Her short stories have appeared in Alien Skin, Argus, Space and Time, Visions, and various anthologies, and have been read on Golden Hours Radio. Former editor of the speculative fiction magazine, Nanobison, she is currently marketing director of the Northwest Independent Writers Association. She lives in Oregon's Willamette Valley, with her husband and various four-legged roommates. As P.J. Cowan she also writes mystery and suspense thrillers.

THE NUMBER 13: LEGENDS AND MYTHS

As a writer of mysteries and suspense thrillers I spend a lot of time researching various rather peculiar, some might say creepy, topics. When I decided to write a short story for an anthology whose theme was the number 13 I was pretty sure my search would result in some interesting information. I had no idea I’d be stumbling over the bizarre, and yes creepy, once again.

Of course I knew there was superstition around the number 13 and that many considered it unlucky. For instance, airlines have no 13^th row of seats, some hotels won’t assign number 13 to a room, and high rises will number the 13^th floor 14. (As if that fools anyone)

But there are many phobias, and the fear is not always based in reality. The fear of 13 has a name, triskaidekaphobia. A fear of Friday the 13^th is called friggatriskaidekaphobia from Frigge, the Norse goddess for whom Friday is named.

 Many of us are aware that it’s considered bad luck to invite 13 people to dinner. This may be based on simple coincidence, such as the Christians belief that there were 13 guests at the Last Supper, Judas being the 13^th. There is also a story that 12 Norse gods were sitting down to a banquet to which Loki, the 13^th, was uninvited. This led Loki to kill one of the other gods, which led to events that eventually resulted in Ragnarok — the death of a number of gods, a slew of natural disasters, and the eradication of everything on earth save for two human survivors.

For an opposing view, there is also a contingent that believes the number 13 is lucky, especially for the United States. They will point out that the U.S. flag originally had 13 stars, and still has 13 stripes. That on the dollar bill there are 13 steps in the pyramid of the Great Seal. The motto above the pyramid, which reads “Annuit Coeptis,” has 13 letters; the eagle on the right side has a ribbon in its beak that bears the motto “E pluribus unum,” which also contains 13 letters. The eagle has 13 tail feathers, and on its breast there is a shield of 13 stripes. In one talon the eagle holds 13 arrows, and in the other an olive branch with 13 leaves and 13 berries. Over the eagle’s head are 13 stars that form the six-pointed “Star of David.” The phrase “July the Fourth” contains 13 letters and the number 4 (1+3), the birth number of the U.S. (July 4, 1776).

In my research I came across another interesting fact. The number 13 has similar folkloric legends in many cultures all around the world.

One explanation is that cultures who use lunisolar calendars (such as the Hebrew and Chinese calendars) must have 13 months in some years in order to synchronize the solar and lunar cycles. The occasional year which contained 13 full moons instead of 12 posed problems for those, usually monks, who were in charge of the calendars. This was considered a very unfortunate circumstance, as it upset the regular arrangement of church festivals. Could this be the real reason thirteen came to be considered an unlucky number?

What is it about calendars? Didn’t we spend a lot of time in 2012 talking about the Mayan Calendar? The end of the Mayan calendar's 13th Baktun was superstitiously feared as a harbinger of the apocalyptic.

Another calendar-based theory is that in ancient cultures, the number 13 represented femininity, because it corresponded to the number of lunar (menstrual) cycles in a year (13 x 28 = 364 days). (When Chinese women make offerings of moon cakes, there are sure to be 13 on the platter. Thirteen is the number of blood, fertility, and lunar potency.) As the patriarchy became stronger the number 13 was vilified.

Calendars and the moon aside, there do seem to be some rather eerie stories and coincidences around the number 13.

The troubled Apollo 13 mission was launched on March 11, 1970. It was written: 4-11-70. The numbers added up to 13. There were more 13s associated with the troubled mission. Like a Discovery Channel report read, "To reach its landing site on the moon, Apollo 13 would launch at 1:13 pm Houston time, or 13:13 on a 24-hour military clock. From there, the crew would enter the moon's gravitational pull on April 13." Yet, despite all those 13s, all crew members of Apollo 13 got back to Earth safely.

Winchester House, in Northern California, is one of the most famous “haunted” houses in the world. Whether or not one believes in Mrs. Winchester’s superstitions about spirits, it’s harder to dismiss occurrences of the number 13 throughout the house. Many windows have 13 panes and there are 13 bathrooms, with 13 windows in the 13th Bathroom. There are also 13 wall panels in the room prior to the 13th Bathroom, and 13 steps leading to that bathroom. The Carriage Entrance Hall floor is divided into 13 cement sections. There are even 13 hooks in the Séance Room, which supposedly held the different colored robes Mrs. Winchester wore while communing with the spirits.

A hangman's noose traditionally has 13 knots. Lesser knots could lead to inhumane suffocation. "Did you ever see a hangman tie a hangknot?/ I've seen it many a time and he winds, he winds / After thirteen times he's got a hangknot," sang Woody Guthrie.

The thirteenth trump card in a Tarot deck is the death card. Typically, it shows a skeleton riding a horse, carrying a black flag.

The names Charles Manson, Jack the Ripper, Jeffrey Dahmer, Theodore Bundy and Albert De Salvo all contain 13 letters.

My search for information about 13 led to my most disturbing finding, a website maintained by a man who quotes from the bible to prove that the number 13 is satanic and is being used to promote the occult. He notes, “Mark 17:21-23 says that there are 13 evils in the human heart.”

He also writes that, “All children today go to school for 13 years (kindergarten plus 1-12 grades). It used to only be 12 years. But they kicked the Bible and prayer out in 1963 and then added kindergarten (making it 13 years). You have to go for 13 years to have your faith destroyed in God.

He is also very clear about the association between Heavy Metal and the number 13. “That’s what Heavy Metal Rock all about, that is, the total destruction of the United States of America.” He also notes other associations between evil and the number 13. “E pluribus unum (13 letters). New world order (13 letters). Annuit Coeptis (13 letters). Obviously he is viewing these same coincidences, which some see as favorable, in an entirely negative light. He also points to these inevitable dates as if they carried some special meaning. “After 12/21/2012 will comes 01/13/2013. What will the year 2013 hold for the world?”

Maybe it’s just this sort of eccentric view of a natural occurrence, stated with authority and not closely questioned, that leads to superstitions such as those surrounding the number 13. In any case I was happy to continue my online search for the unique properties of 13 at more science-based sites.

I learned that 13 is a natural number after 12 and before 14. It is the smallest number with eight letters in its name spelled out in English.

I also found that Friday turns out to be the most common weekday on which the 13th of a month can occur in the Gregorian calendar.

The number 13 is the sixth prime number and the smallest emirp (prime which is a different prime when reversed). It is also a Fibonacci number, a happy number and one of only 2 known Wilson primes. (I have no idea what a Fibonacci, a happy number or a Wilson prime is, but at least they’re not scary.)

In conclusion: Whether 13 is unlucky, lucky, or simply a number with no deeper meaning is something I will leave you to decide. I haven’t made up my mind and will have to think about it some more. In the meanwhile I’m going to go pour a cup of coffee and hunt up my favorite 13, a baker’s dozen — of donuts!

-Pam Bainbridge-Cowan

Links:
Website: http://www.pambainbridgecowan.com/
Website: http://www.authorpjcowan.com/
Facebook: http://www.authorpjcowan.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Just_Pam
Email: pam@pambainbridgecowan.com