Podcasts | These Fantastic Worlds

About Podcasts | These Fantastic Worlds

Quick journey? Need a short respite from the everyday? Take a listen to stories from the far future to the distant past, with gothic landscapes, dystopia, dark fantasy, myths and space opera, pure science fiction and fantasy. These Fantastic Worlds features new weekly short stories by Jake Jackson.

Publisher

Jake Jackson

Category

fiction · history

Language

en

Explicit

No

First episode

16 Sept 2014

Latest episode

11 Jan 2022

Latest episodes

110 episodes in the feed.

1. 

   11 Jan 2022

   110 - Norse Myths 10 - Ragnarok

   The tenth of Ten Norse Myths. Ragnarok, the Twilight of the Gods, the destruction of the worlds, the dramatic death duel of light and dark... Ragnarok. The end of the world had been prophesied from its beginning, and everyone across the world knew what to expect when Ragnarok fell upon them. For Ragnarok was the twilight of the gods, an end to the golden years of Asgard, an end to the palaces of delight, an end to the timeless world where nothing could interfere. It was the death of Balder that set the stage for the end of the world, and it was Loki’s crimes which laid in place the main characters. And when the events had begun, there was no stopping it. When evil entered Asgard, it tainted all nine worlds. Sol and Mani, high in the sky, paled with fright, and their chariots slowed as they moved with effort across the sky. They knew that the fierce, dark wolves, Hati and Skull would be soon upon them and that it would be only a matter of time before eternal darkness would fall once again. Sol and Mani were indeed devoured by their dread pursuers, there was no light to shine on the earth, and the terrible cold crept into the warm reaches of summer and drew from the soil all that was growing there. Snow began to drift down upon the freezing land, and soon it snowed a little faster, and a little harder, until the earth was covered once again in a dark layer of ice. Winter was upon them, and it did not cease. For three long, frozen seasons, it was winter, and then, after a thaw that melted only one single layer of ice, it was back for three more. With the cold and the darkness came evil, which rooted itself in the hearts of humankind. Soon crime was rampant, and all shreds of kindness disappeared with the spring. At last, the stars were flung from the skies, causing the earth to tremble and shake. Loki and Fenris were freed from their manacles, and together they moved forward to wreak their revenge on the gods and men who had bound them so cruelly. At the bottom of Yggdrasill, there was a groan that emanated the entire length of the tree, for at that moment, Nithog had gnawed through the root of the world tree, which quivered and shook from bottom to top. Fialar, the red cock who made his home above Valhalla shrieked out his cry, and then flew away from the tree as his call was echoed by Gullinkambi, the rooster in Midgard. Heimdall knew at once what was upon them, and raising his mighty horn to his lips he blew the call that filled the hearts of all gods and humankind with terror. "Ragnarok." "Ragnarok." "Ragnarok." The gods sprang from their beds, and thrust aside the finery that hung in their chambers. They armed themselves and mounted their horses, ready for the war that had been expected since the beginning of time. They moved quickly over the rainbow bridge and then they reached the field of Vigrid, where the last battle would be fought. The turmoil on earth caused the seas to toss and twist with waves, and soon the world serpent Jormungander was woken from his deep sleep. The movement of the seas yanked his tail from his mouth, and it lashed around, sending waves crashing in every direction. And as he crawled out upon land for the first time, a tidal wave swelled across the earth, and set afloat Nagilfar, the ship of the dead, constructed as it was from the nails of the dead. Such nails came from those whose relatives had failed in their sacred duties, and neglected to pare the nails of the deceased when they were laid to rest. As the wind caught the blackened sail, Loki leapt aboard, and took her wheel – the ship of the undead captained by the personification of all evil. Loki called upon the fire-gods from Muspell, and they arrived in a conflagration of terrible glory. Another ship had set out for Vigrid, and this was steered by Hrym and crewed by the frost-giants who had waited through the millennia for this battle. Across the raging sea, both vessels made for the battlefield. As they travelled, Hel, crept from her underground estate, bringing with her Nithog, and the hellhound Garm. From up above, there was a great crack, and Surtr, with sword blazing, leapt with his sons to the Bifrost bridge, and with one swoop they felled it, and sent the shimmering rainbow crashing to the depths below. Quickly, Odin escaped from the battlefield, and slipped one last time to the Urdar fountain, where the Norns sat quietly, accepting their fate. He leant over Mimir, and requested her wisdom, but for once the head would not talk to him, and he remounted Sleipnir and returned to the field, frightened and aware that he had no powers left with which to defend his people. The opposing armies lined themselves on the field of Vigrid. On one side were the Aesir, the Vanir and the Einheriear – on the other, were the fire-giants led by Surtr, the frost-giants, the undead with Hel, and Loki with his children – Fenris and Jormungander. The air was filled with poison and the stench of evil from the opposing army, yet the gods held up their heads and prepared for a battle to end all time. And so it was that the ancient enemies came to blows. Odin first met with the evil Fenris, and as he charged towards the fierce wolf, Fenris’s massive jaws stretched open and Odin was flung deep into the red throat. Thor stopped in his tracks, the death of his father burning deep in his breast, and with renewed fury he lunged at the world serpent, engaging in a combat that would last for many hours. His hammer laid blow after blow on the serpent, and at last there was silence. Thor sat back in exhaustion, Jormungander dying at his side. But as Thor made to move forward, to carry on and support his kin in further battles, the massive serpent exhaled one last time, in a cloud of poison so vile that Thor fell at once, lifeless in the mist of the serpent’s breath. Tyr fought bravely with just one arm, but he, like his father, was swallowed whole, by the hellhound Garm, but as he passed through the gullet of the hound he struck out one last blow with his sword and pierced the heart of his enemy, dying in the knowledge that he had fulfilled his role in destiny. Heimdall met Loki hand to hand, and the supreme forces of good and evil engaged in the battle that had been raging for all Time. Their flames engulfed one another, on and on they fought, striking and hefting, matching each other blow for blow until a crescendo of light burst across the skies. And fell to silence. Heimdall and Loki were no more. The silent Vidar, Odin’s son and God of Justice, came rushing from a distant part of the plain to avenge the death of his father, and he laid upon the jaw of Fenris a shoe which had been created for this day. With his arms and legs in motion he tore the wolf’s head from his body, and then lay back in a pool of blood. Of all the gods, only Frey was left fighting. He battled valiantly, and as he laid down giant after giant, he felt a warmth on the back of his neck that meant only one thing. The heat burned and sizzled his skin, and as he turned he found himself face to face with Surtr. With a cry of rage that howled through the torn land, and shook the massive stem of the world ash, Yggdrasill, Surtr flung down bolts of fire that engulfed the golden palaces of the gods, and each of the worlds which lay beneath it. The heat caused the seas to bubble and to boil, and there came at once a wreath of smoke that engulfed the fire, and then, obliterated the nine worlds. At last all was as it had been in the beginning. There was blackness. There was chaos. There was a nothingness that stretched as far as there was space. The End of the World The earth was purged by the fire and there was at once a new beginning. The sun rose in the sky, mounted on a chariot driven by the daughter of Sol, born before the wolf had eaten her father and her mother. Fresh green grass sprung up in the crevices, and flowers and fruits burst forth. Two new humans, Lif, a woman, and Lifthrasir, a man, emerged from Mimir’s forest, where they had been reincarnated at the end of the world. Vali and Vidar, the forces of natural law and nature had survived the fiery battle, and they returned to the plain to be greeted by Thor’s sons, Modi and Magni, who carried with them their father’s hammer. The Vanir, ancient rivals to the Aesir of Odin’s family of Gods, had vanished forever, releasing Hoenir who had been held hostage for millennia underground. And from the deepest depths of the earth came Balder, renewed and as pure as he had ever been. Hodur rose with him, and the two brothers embraced, and greeted the new day. And so this small group of gods turned to face the scenes of destruction and devastation, and to witness the new life that was already curling up from the cloak of death and darkness. The land had become a refuge for the good. They looked up – they all looked all way up – and there in front of them, stronger than ever was the world ash, Yggdrasill, which had trembled but not fallen. There was a civilization to be created, and a small band of gods with whom it could be done. The gods had returned blinking into the light – a light as pure and virtuous as the new inhabitants of the earth – and in that light they gathered forth our own world. End of the ten Norse Myths The next ten tales are stories from Indian Mythology The first Norse Myth is Creation The second Norse Myth is Odin and Frigga And the third tells of the Valkyrie The fourth Myth tells how Thor Gained his Hammer. The fifth tale is about Loki The Sixth focuses on the God Heimdall, the guardian of the Bifrost The Seventh myth covers the story of the Tyr and the Sword of Destiny The Eighth story tells of The Volsungs The Ninth tale is of The Death of Baldur Part of a series on world myths and legends, released through Libsyn, on These Fantastic Worlds SF & Fantasy Fiction Podcast on iTunes, Apple Podcasts, Google Play, Spotify, Vurbl and Stitcher  and more. Also on this blog, These Fantastic Worlds. RSS feeds available on request by email. Text based on Norse Myths, General Editor Jake Jackson. Copyright © 2014 Flame Tree Publishing Ltd. ISBN: 9780857758200. This and other books on African, Indian, Polynesian, Aztec, Greek, Celtic and mythology are available online at flametreepublishing.com and in store worldwide, including Amazon, BookDepository, Barnes and Noble, Indigo, Blackwells and Waterstones. Online production, images and audio © 2022 Jake Jackson, thesefantasticworlds.com (https://thesefantasticworlds.com). Thanks to Frances Bodiam and Elise Wells,  Logic ProX, Sound Studio, the Twisted Wave Recorder App, and Scrivener. More Tales, More Audio The first 100 tales in this series are new stories by Jake Jackson, on subjects ranging from robots, dystopia, haunted houses, dark fantasy and long shadows, including: Machines Discarded I Machines Discarded II Find Me The Green Man Kingdom of Lies Obsession Time Now Artificial Intelligence Clone Complicit Cosmic Hall Daily Mask Ophelia A.I. (https://thesefantasticworlds.com/micro-fiction-017-ophelia-a-i-robot-series/) And a carousel of 10 audio stories from the podcast with information about submissions. Here's a related post, 5 Steps to the SF and Fantasy Podcasts.

2. 

   4 Jan 2022

   109 - Norse Myths 09 - The Death of Baldur

   The ninth Norse Myth of ten, brings us to the death of Baldur, one of the most famous laments of Viking legend... The Death of Baldur. To Odin and Frigga were born twin sons as dissimilar in character and physical appearance as it was possible for two children to be. Hodur, god of darkness, was sombre, taciturn, and blind, like the obscurity of sin, which he was supposed to symbolise, while his brother Baldur, the beautiful, was worshipped as the pure and radiant god of innocence and light. From his snowy brow and golden locks seemed to radiate beams of sunshine which gladdened the hearts of gods and men, by whom he was equally beloved. Each life that he touched glowed with goodness, and he was loved by all who knew him. Baldur tended to his twin brother Hodur with every kindness and consideration. Hodur worshipped Baldur, and would do nothing in his power to harm him. The youthful Baldur attained his full growth with marvellous rapidity, and was early admitted to the council of the gods. He took up his abode in the palace of Breidablik, whose silver roof rested upon golden pillars, and whose purity was such that nothing common or unclean was ever allowed within its precincts, and here he lived in perfect unity with his young wife Nanna (blossom), the daughter of Nip (bud), a beautiful and charming goddess. The god of light was well versed in the science of runes, which were carved on his tongue; he knew the various virtues of simples, one of which, the camomile, was called “Baldur’s brow,” because its flower was as immaculately pure as his forehead. The only thing hidden from Baldur’s radiant eyes was the perception of his own ultimate fate. There came a morning when Baldur woke with the dawn, his face tightened with fear and foresight. He had dreamed of his own death and he lay there petrified, aware, somehow, that the strength of this dream forecasted sinister things to come. So Baldur travelled to see Odin, who listened carefully, and knew at once that the fears of his son were justified – for in his shining eyes there was no longer simply innocence; there was knowledge as well. Odin went at once to his throne at the top of Yggdrasill, and he prayed there for a vision to come to him. At once he saw the head of Vala the Seer come to him, and he knew he must travel to Hel’s kingdom, to visit Vala’s grave. Only then would he learn the truth of his favourite son’s fate. It was many long days before Odin reached the innermost graves on Hel’s estate. He moved quietly so that Hel would not know of his coming, and he was disregarded by most of the workers in her lands, for they were intent on some celebrations, and were preparing the hall for the arrival of an esteemed guest. At last the mound of Vala’s grave appeared, and he sat there on it, keeping his head low so that the prophetess would not catch a glimpse of his face. Vala was a seer of all things future, and all things past; there was nothing that escaped her bright eyes, and she could be called upon only by the magic of the runes to tell of her knowledge. The grave was wreathed in shadows, and a mist hung uneasily over the tombstone. There was silence as Odin whispered to Vala to come forth, and then, at once, there was a grating and steaming that poured forth an odour that caused even the all-powerful Odin to gag and spit. ‘Who disturbs me from my sleep,’ said Vala with venom. Odin thought carefully before replying. He did not wish her to know that he was Odin, king of gods and men, for she may not wish to tell him of a future that would touch on his own. And so he responded: ‘I am Vegtam, son of Valtam, and I wish to learn of the fate of Baldur.’ ‘Baldur’s brother will slay him,’ said Vala, and with that she withdrew into her grave. Odin leapt up and cried out, ‘With the power of the runes, you must tell me more. Tell me, Vala, which esteemed guest does Hel prepare for?’ ‘Baldur,’ she muttered from the depths of her grave, ‘and I will say no more.’ Odin shook his head with concern. He could not see how it could be possible that Baldur’s brother would take his life; Baldur and Hodur were the closest of brothers, and shared the same thoughts and indeed speech for much of the time. He returned to Asgard with his concerns still intact, and he discussed them there with Frigga, who listened carefully. ‘I have a plan,’ she announced, ‘and I am certain you will agree that this is the best course of action for us all. I plan to travel through all nine lands, and I will seek the pledge of every living creature, every plant, every metal and stone, not to harm Baldur.’ And Frigga was as good as her word, for on the morrow she set out and travelled far and wide, everywhere she went extracting with ease the promise of every living creature, and inanimate object, to love Baldur, and to see that he was not injured in any way. And so it was that Baldur was immune to injury of any kind, and it became a game among the children of Asgard to aim their spears and arrows at him, and laugh as they bounced off, leaving him unharmed. Baldur was adored throughout the worlds, and there was no one who did not smile when he spied him. No one, that is except Loki, whose jealousy of Baldur had reached an unbearable pitch. Each night he ruminated over the ways in which he could murder Baldur, but he could think of none. Frigga had taken care to involve all possible dangers in her oath, and there was nothing now that would hurt him. But the scheming Loki was not unwise, and he soon came up with a plan. Transforming himself into a beggarwoman, he knocked on Frigga’s door and requested a meal. Frigga was pleased to offer her hospitality, and she sat down to keep the beggar company as she ate. Loki, in his disguise, chattered on about the handsome Baldur, who he’d seen in the hall, and he mentioned his fears that Baldur would be killed by one of the spears and arrows he had seen hurled at him. Frigga laughed, and explained that Baldur was now invincible. ‘Did everything swear an oath to you then?’ asked Loki slyly. ‘Oh, yes,’ said Frigga, but then she paused, ‘all, that is, except for a funny little plant which was growing at the base of the oak tree at Valhalla. Why I’d never before set eyes on such a little shoot of greenery and it was far too immature to swear to anything so important as my oath.’ ‘What’s it called?’ asked Loki again. ‘Hmmm,’ said Frigga, still unaware of the dangers her information might invoke, ‘mistletoe. Yes, mistletoe.’ Loki thanked Frigga hastily for his meal, and left her palace, transforming at once into his mischievous self, and travelled to Valhalla as quickly as his feet would take him. He carefully plucked the budding mistletoe, and returned to Odin’s hall, where Baldur played with the younger gods and goddesses, as they shot him unsuccessfully with arms of every shape and size. Hodur was standing frowning in the corner, and Loki whispered for him to come over. ‘What is it, Hodur,’ he asked. ‘Nothing, really, just that I cannot join their games,’ said Hodur quietly. ‘Come with me,’ said Loki, ‘for I can help.’ And leading Hodur to a position close to Baldur, he placed in his hands a bow and arrow fashioned from the fleetest of fabrics. To the end of the arrow, he tied a small leaf of mistletoe, and topped the razor-sharp tip with a plump white berry. ‘Now, shoot now,’ he cried to Hodur, who pulled back the bow and let the arrow soar towards its target. There was a sharp gasp, and then there was silence. Hodur shook his head with surprise – where were the happy shouts, where was the laughter telling him that his own arrow had hit its mark and failed to harm the victim? The silence spoke volumes, for Baldur lay dead in a circle of admirers as pale and frightened as if they had seen Hel herself. The agony spread across Asgard like a great wave. When it was discovered who had shot the fatal blow, Hodur was sent far from his family, and left alone in the wilderness. He had not yet had a moment to utter the name of the god who had encouraged him to perpetrate this grave crime, and his misery kept him silent. Frigga was disconsolate with grief. She begged Hermod, the swiftest of her sons, to set out at once for Filheim, to beg Hel to release Baldur. And so he climbed upon Odin’s finest steed, Sleipnir, and set out for the nine worlds of Hel, a task so fearsome that he shook uncontrollably. In Asgard, Frigga and Odin carried their son’s body to the sea, where a funeral pyre was created and lit. Nanna, Baldur’s wife, could bear it no longer, and before the pyre was set out on the tempestuous sea, she threw herself on the flames, and perished there with her only love. As a token of their great affection and esteem, the gods offered, one by one, their most prized possessions and laid them on the pyre as it set out for the wild seas. Odin produced his magic ring Draupnir, and the greatest gods of Asgard gathered to see the passing of Baldur. And so the blazing ship left the shore, will full sail set. And then darkness swallowed it, and Baldur had gone. Throughout this time, Hermod had been travelling at great speed towards Hel. He rode for nine days and nine nights, and never took a moment to sleep. He galloped on and on, bribing the watchman of each gate to let him past, and invoking the name of Baldur as the reason for his journey. At last, he reached the hall of Hel, where he found Baldur sitting easily with Nanna, in great comfort and looking quite content. Hel stood by his side, keeping a close watch on her newest visitor. She looked up at Hermod with disdain, for everyone knew that once a spirit had reached Hel it could not be released. But Hermod fell on one knee and begged the icy mistress to reconsider her hold over Baldur. ‘Please, Queen Hel, without Baldur we cannot survive. There can be no future for Asgard without his presence,’ he cried. But Hel would not be moved. She held out for three days and three nights, while Hermod stayed right by her side, begging and pleading and offering every conceivable reason why Baldur should be released. And finally the Queen of darkness gave in. ‘Return at once to Asgard,’ she said harshly, ‘and if what you say is true, if everything – living and inanimate – in Asgard loves Baldur and cannot live without him, then he will be released. But if there is even one dissenter, if there is even one stone in your land who does not mourn the passing of Baldur, then he shall remain here with me.’ Hermod was gladdened by this news, for he knew that everyone – including Hodur who had sent the fatal arrow flying through the air – loved Baldur. He agreed to these terms at once, and set off for Asgard, relaying himself and his news with speed that astonished all who saw him arrive. Immediately, Odin sent messengers to all corners of the universe, asking for tears to be shed for Baldur. And as they travelled, everyone and everything began to weep, until a torrent of water rushed across the tree of life. And after everyone had been approached, and each had shed his tears, the messengers made their way back to Odin’s palace with glee. Baldur would be released, there could be no doubt! But it was not to be, for as the last messenger travelled back to the palace, he noticed the form of an old beggar, hidden in the darkness of a cave. He approached her then, and bid her to cry for Baldur, but she did not. Her eyes remained dry. The uproar was carried across to the palace, and Odin himself came to see ‘dry eyes’, whose inability to shed tears would cost him the life of his son. He stared into those eyes and he saw then what the messenger had failed to see, what Frigga had failed to see, and what had truly caused the death of Baldur. For those eyes belonged to none other than Loki, and it was he who had murdered Baldur as surely as if the arrow had left his own hands. The sacred code of Asgard had been broken, for blood had been spilled by one of their own, in their own land. The end of the world was nigh – but first, Loki would be punished once and for all. The next story tells of Ragnarok The first Norse Myth is Creation The second Norse Myth is Odin and Frigga And the third tells of the Valkyrie The fourth Myth tells how Thor Gained his Hammer. The fifth tale is about Loki The Sixth focuses on the God Heimdall, the guardian of the Bifrost The Seventh myth covers the story of the Tyr and the Sword of Destiny The Eighth story tells of The Volsungs Part of a series on world myths and legends, released through Libsyn, on These Fantastic Worlds SF & Fantasy Fiction Podcast on iTunes, Apple Podcasts, Google Play, Spotify, Vurbl and Stitcher  and more. Also on this blog, These Fantastic Worlds. RSS feeds available on request by email. Text based on Norse Myths, General Editor Jake Jackson. Copyright © 2014 Flame Tree Publishing Ltd. ISBN: 9780857758200. This and other books on African, Indian, Polynesian, Aztec, Greek, Celtic and mythology are available online at flametreepublishing.com and in store worldwide, including Amazon, BookDepository, Barnes and Noble, Indigo, Blackwells and Waterstones. Online production, images and audio © 2022 Jake Jackson, thesefantasticworlds.com (https://thesefantasticworlds.com). Thanks to Frances Bodiam and Elise Wells,  Logic ProX, Sound Studio, the Twisted Wave Recorder App, and Scrivener. More Tales, More Audio The first 100 tales in this series are new stories by Jake Jackson, on subjects ranging from robots, dystopia, haunted houses, dark fantasy and long shadows, including: Machines Discarded I Machines Discarded II Find Me The Green Man Kingdom of Lies Obsession Time Now Artificial Intelligence Clone Complicit Cosmic Hall Daily Mask Ophelia A.I. (https://thesefantasticworlds.com/micro-fiction-017-ophelia-a-i-robot-series/) And a carousel of 10 audio stories from the podcast with information about submissions. Here's a related post, 5 Steps to the SF and Fantasy Podcasts.

3. 

   28 Dec 2021

   108 - Norse Myths 08 - The Story of the Volsungs

   This eighth Norse Myth of ten, tells of the dynasty of the Volsungs, the heroes of the North, the family of Sigurd, Sigmund and Sigi, born of Odin... The Heroes of the Volsungs. The story of the Volsungs begins with Sigi, a son of Odin, a powerful man, and generally respected, until he killed another man out of jealousy, the latter having slain more game when they were out hunting together. In consequence of this crime, Sigi was driven from his own land and declared an outlaw. But it seems that he had not entirely forfeited Odin’s favour, for the god now provided him with a well-equipped vessel, together with a number of brave followers, and promised that victory should ever attend him. Thus aided by Odin, the raids of Sigi became a terror to his foes, and in the end he won the glorious empire of the Huns and for many years reigned as a powerful monarch. But in extreme old age his fortune changed, Odin forsook him, his wife’s kindred fell upon him, and he was slain in a treacherous encounter. His death was soon avenged, however, for Rerir, his son, returning from an expedition upon which he had been absent from the land at the time, put the murderers to death as his first act upon mounting the throne. The rule of Rerir was marked by every sign of prosperity, but his dearest wish, a son to succeed him, remained unfulfilled for many a year. Finally, however, Frigga decided to grant his constant prayer, and to vouchsafe the heir he longed for. She accordingly despatched her swift messenger Gna, or Liod, with a miraculous apple, which she dropped into his lap as he was sitting alone on the hillside. Glancing upward, Rerir recognised the emissary of the goddess, and joyfully hastened home to partake of the apple with his wife. The child who in due time was born under these favourable auspices was a handsome little lad. His parents called him Volsung, and while he was still a mere infant they both died, and the child became ruler of the land. Years passed and Volsung’s wealth and power ever increased. He was the boldest leader, and rallied many brave warriors around him. Often they drank his mead underneath the Branstock, a mighty oak, which, rising in the middle of his hall, pierced the roof and overshadowed the whole house. Ten stalwart sons were born to Volsung, and one daughter, Signy, came to brighten his home. So lovely was this maiden that when she reached marriageable age many suitors asked for her hand, among whom was Siggeir, King of the Goths, who finally obtained Volsung’s consent, although Signy had never seen him. When the wedding-day came, and the bride beheld her destined husband she shrank in dismay, for his puny form and lowering glances contrasted sadly with her brothers’ sturdy frames and open faces. But it was too late to withdraw—the family honour was at stake—and Signy so successfully concealed her dislike that none save her twin brother Sigmund suspected with what reluctance she became Siggeir’s wife. While the wedding feast was in progress, and when the merry-making was at its height, the entrance to the hall was suddenly darkened by the tall form of a one-eyed man, closely enveloped in a mantle of cloudy blue. Without vouchsafing word or glance to any in the assembly, the stranger strode to the Branstock and thrust a glittering sword up to the hilt in its great bole. Then, turning slowly round, he faced the awe-struck and silent assembly, and declared that the weapon would be for the warrior who could pull it out of its oaken sheath, and that it would assure him victory in every battle. The words ended, he then passed out as he had entered, and disappeared, leaving a conviction in the minds of all that Odin, king of the gods, had been in their midst. Volsung was the first to recover the power of speech, and, waiving his own right first to essay the feat, he invited Siggeir to make the first attempt to draw the divine weapon out of the tree-trunk. The bridegroom anxiously tugged and strained, but the sword remained firmly embedded in the oak and he resumed his seat, with an air of chagrin. Then Volsung tried, with the same result. The weapon was evidently not intended for either of them, and the young Volsung princes were next invited to try their strength. The nine eldest sons were equally unsuccessful; but when Sigmund, the tenth and youngest, laid his firm young hand upon the hilt, the sword yielded easily to his touch, and he triumphantly drew it out as though it had merely been sheathed in its scabbard. Nearly all present were gratified at the success of the young prince; but Siggeir’s heart was filled with envy, and he coveted possession of the weapon. He offered to purchase it from his young brother-in-law, but Sigmund refused to part with it at any price, declaring that it was clear that the weapon had been intended for him to wear. This refusal so offended Siggeir that he secretly resolved to exterminate the proud Volsungs, and to secure the divine sword to indulge his hatred towards his new kinsmen. Concealing his bitterness, however, he turned to Volsung and cordially invited him to visit his court a month later, together with his sons and kinsmen. The invitation was immediately accepted, and although Signy, suspecting evil, secretly sought her father while her husband slept, and implored him to retract his promise and stay at home, he would not consent to withdraw his solemn word. Siggeir’s Treachery A few weeks after the return of the bridal couple, therefore, Volsung’s well-manned vessels arrived within sight of Siggeir’s shores. Signy had been keeping anxious watch, and when she perceived them she hastened down to the beach to implore her kinsmen not to land, warning them that her husband had planned a treacherous ambush, from which they could not escape alive. But Volsung and his sons, whom no peril could daunt, calmly bade her return to her husband’s palace, and donning their arms they boldly set foot ashore. It befell as Signy had foretold, for on their way to the palace the brave troop fell into Siggeir’s ambush, and, although they fought with heroic courage, they were so borne down by the superior number of their foes that Volsung was slain and all his sons were made captive. The young men were led bound into the presence of the cowardly Siggeir, who had taken no part in the fight, and Sigmund was forced to relinquish his precious sword, after which he and his brothers were condemned to death. Signy, hearing the cruel sentence, vainly interceded for her brothers: all she could obtain by her prayers and entreaties was that they should be chained to a fallen oak in the forest, to perish of hunger and thirst if the wild beasts should spare them. Then, lest she should visit and succour her brothers, Siggeir confined his wife in the palace, where she was closely guarded night and day. Every morning early Siggeir himself sent a messenger into the forest to see whether the Volsungs were still living, and every morning the man returned saying a monster had come during the night and had devoured one of the princes, leaving nothing but his bones. At last, when none but Sigmund remained alive, Signy thought of a plan, and she prevailed on one of her servants to carry some honey into the forest and smear it over her brother’s face and mouth. When the wild beast came that night, attracted by the smell of the honey, it licked Sigmund’s face, and even thrust its tongue into his mouth. Clinching his teeth upon it, Sigmund, weak and wounded as he was, held on to the animal, and in its frantic struggles his bonds gave way, and he succeeded in slaying the prowling beast who had devoured his brothers. Then he vanished into the forest, where he remained concealed until the king’s messenger had come as usual, and until Signy, released from captivity, came speeding to the forest to weep over her kinsmen’s remains. Seeing her intense grief, and knowing that she had not participated in Siggeir’s cruelty, Sigmund stole out of his place of concealment and comforted her as best he could. Together they then buried the whitening bones, and Sigmund registered a solemn oath to avenge his family’s wrongs. This vow was fully approved by Signy, who, however, bade her brother bide a favourable time, promising to send him aid. Then the brother and sister sadly parted, she to return to her distasteful palace home, and he to a remote part of the forest, where he built a tiny hut and plied the craft of a smith. Siggeir now took possession of the Volsung kingdom, and during the next few years he proudly watched the growth of his eldest son, whom Signy secretly sent to her brother when he was ten years of age, that Sigmund might train up the child to help him to obtain vengeance if he should prove worthy. Sigmund reluctantly accepted the charge; but as soon as he had tested the boy he found him deficient in physical courage, so he either sent him back to his mother. Some time after this Signy’s second son was sent into the forest for the same purpose, but Sigmund found him equally lacking in courage. Evidently none but a pure-blooded Volsung would avail for the grim work of revenge, and Signy, realising this, resolved to commit a crime. Her resolution taken, she summoned a beautiful young witch, and exchanging forms with her, she sought the depths of the dark forest and took shelter in Sigmund’s hut. The Volsung did not penetrate his sister’s disguise. He deemed her nought but the gypsy she seemed, and being soon won by her charms, he made her his wife. Three days later she disappeared from the hut, and, returning to the palace, she resumed her own form, and when she next gave birth to a son, she rejoiced to see in his bold glance and strong frame the promise of a true Volsung hero. The next story tells of the Death of Baldur. The first Norse Myth is Creation The second Norse Myth is Odin and Frigga And the third tells of the Valkyrie The fourth Myth tells how Thor Gained his Hammer. The fifth tale is about Loki The Sixth focuses on the God Heimdall, the guardian of the Bifrost The Seventh myth covers the story of the Tyr and the Sword of Destiny Part of a series on world myths and legends, released through Libsyn, on These Fantastic Worlds SF & Fantasy Fiction Podcast on iTunes, Apple Podcasts, Google Play, Spotify, Vurbl and Stitcher  and more. Also on this blog, These Fantastic Worlds. RSS feeds available on request by email. Text based on Norse Myths, General Editor Jake Jackson. Copyright © 2014 Flame Tree Publishing Ltd. ISBN: 9780857758200. This and other books on African, Indian, Polynesian, Aztec, Greek, Celtic and mythology are available online at flametreepublishing.com and in store worldwide, including Amazon, BookDepository, Barnes and Noble, Indigo, Blackwells and Waterstones. Online production, images and audio © 2021 Jake Jackson, thesefantasticworlds.com (https://thesefantasticworlds.com). Thanks to Frances Bodiam and Elise Wells,  Logic ProX, Sound Studio, the Twisted Wave Recorder App, and Scrivener. More Tales, More Audio The first 100 tales in this series are new stories by Jake Jackson, on subjects ranging from robots, dystopia, haunted houses, dark fantasy and long shadows, including: Machines Discarded I Machines Discarded II Find Me The Green Man Kingdom of Lies Obsession Time Now Artificial Intelligence Clone Complicit Cosmic Hall Daily Mask Ophelia A.I. (https://thesefantasticworlds.com/micro-fiction-017-ophelia-a-i-robot-series/) And a carousel of 10 audio stories from the podcast with information about submissions. Here's a related post, 5 Steps to the SF and Fantasy Podcasts.

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