TALES OF VALHALLA

A group of warriors get hammered in their final resting place, as all warriors will. How did they come to be there?

Music was the dominant force in Valhalla. Bawdy drunken drawls, deep booming harmonies that thickened the air like incense. The ale was perfect to Caru's taste, pleasantly musty, dark as a tankard full of coal.

"When I saw that the fuse had burned into the barrel!" Rokar bellowed, beer mixing with his beard. "That's when I thought it, for the first and last time: 'I'm going to die' ... then the cannon went BOOM ... and I was right!"

The warriors guffawed and clashed tankards. Beer splashed over them all, and immediately refilled to the top of each cup.

Mila pointed to each warrior as she spoke. "Blown up by a cannon, eaten by a dragon, drowned by a kraken, who can top it?"

Caru smiled. "I think I can try."

The warriors cheered and pounded the table.

"The Battle Of Makash Canyon. I was advancing along the northern ridge, ducking behind dunes, shots going off all around me, flicking sand in my eyes. I thought I was going to die, then."

Rokar frowned. "You thought?"

Caru grinned. "Patience, I wasn't finished. I crossed the razorwire, dodged between their ramparts and jumped down into the trench ... the only one of my battalion to do so. I shot three men, started reloading... then the ground bucked beneath my feet, knocked me right on my ass. For a moment I thought it was one of their armoured serpents, digging through the battlefield... but no: I'd been standing on a hatch. It flew open, and five men got out, fully armoured ... I was sure I was going to die."

"And did you?" Mila grunted.

"They didn't see me, or the dynamite I left by their feet. Unfortunately, the blast got a little more attention than I bargained for. The trench burst, split apart." He eyed the honoured dead with a smile. "This time, it was an armoured serpent."

"That's more like it!" Rokar roared.

"It burst from the ground, eyes fixed on me, jaws open, and the thought came again ... 'I'm going to die.'"

"Eaten by an armoured serpent ..." Mila mused. "Pretty good ..."

"He ate me alright. I braced myself against his ribcage, but he was swallowing and swallowing, I could smell the acrid stench of his stomach acid. This time I knew it. I was going to die ... until I stuffed my last stick of dynamite between two ribs."

"Boom!" Rokar banged the table, spilling Mila's ale.

"I went completely deaf," Caru said. "Burned my chest, blew off four fingers ... and blasted a hole in the serpent's side. I dived through ... right into the open air. The beast must have been right over the lip of the canyon. I was so dazed I only realised when I hit water. I was swept away by the Makash River."

The warriors laughed, showering each other in ale. Rokar patted Caru on the shoulder. "That's how you died, eh?"

"I died when I was ninety, in my wife's arms."

They stopped cheering and stared.

Caru grinned. "Her father pulled me out of the river. She set my broken bones. We married, we had children, grandchildren, great grandchildren. That day in Makash Canyon wasn't the day I died ... that was the day I was brought to life."