FABULOUS BOOKS Emil H
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FABULOUS BOOKS Emil H. Petersen The Survivor’s Saga Fantasy EMIL H. PETERSEN / THE SURVIVOR’S SAGA 1 ABOUT THE AUTHOR Emil H. Petersen (b. 1984) is an Icelandic poet and fantasy author. Emil's two poetry books, Refur (Fox) and Gárungagap (Wag the Gap) were acclaimed by critics and readers alike. In his poetry, he examines mythological elements critically, often projecting them into the present day. For Fox he received the Newcomer’s Grant of The Icelandic Literature Fund. As well as being very active on the Icelandic poetry scene, he has translated poems, worked as an editor at a publishing house, worked for the Reykjavik International Literary Festival, and written articles and reviews in literary magazines. The Survivor’s Saga – Höður and Baldur (Saga eftirlifenda – Höður og Baldur, 2009) is his first novel, and has been credited for being the first established Icelandic work of fantasy fiction. Emil currently resides in the town of Lund in Sweden, where he earned his second Master’s degree. His thesis is called “Trickery, Chaos, and Brutality: Norse Mythology in Two Urban Fantasies”, which he presented at The International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts, 2012, in Florida USA. He has also been invited to read from his novel at Swecon in October 2012 (The Swedish Convention of Fantasy and Science Fiction). Previously, he earned an MA in Practical Editorship and Publishing, and a BA in Comparative Literature. BIBLIOGRAPHY Novels: Saga eftirlifenda: Höður & Baldur, 2010: Nykur Poetry: Refur, 2008: Nykur Gárungagap, 2007: Nykur EMIL H. PETERSEN / THE SURVIVOR’S SAGA 2 THE SURVIVOR’S SAGA — HÖÐUR & BALDUR Höður & Baldur is the first novel in the trilogy The Survivors’ Saga, an elaborate and extensive story that combines many literary genres and brings a fresh contribution to the Icelandic literary scene. The story joins together an exciting fantasy-thriller, an existential and comical account of the relationship of two brothers, and a sharply critical representation of the status of men, creatures and gods in a world of conflicts and deception. The Survivors’ Saga tells the story of those who survived Ragnarök, the Norse apocalypse. 7010 years have passed since the world ended, and the story takes place in a alternate version of today's world. The brothers Höður and Baldur are members of the Æsir, the gods of the ancient Norse religion. Both of them have survived the end of the world. Both have seen a new world rise from the ashes of the old. To receive the apple of youth that preserves his immortality, the blind god Höður must journey to the so-called civilized world once a century. When he finds himself stumbling upon a scene of death and wanton cruelty on one such visit, his exile is forcefully brought to a close. Meanwhile, in a blistering desert on the other side of the world, his brother Baldur grows visibly older by the minute, in spite of his struggle to stave off the inexorable decline. Wealthy and dark forces, controlled by yet another surviving god, are on the rise, and the decline of mankind looms on the horizon. Shortly after Ragnarök, conflicts and power struggles between the surviving Æsir derailed all efforts to rebuild the world as a better place. Mankind repopulated the lands, and without divine help, humans went on to build a world largely identical to the old one. History looks set to repeat itself as a pattern of events emerges, similar to those that sent the previous apocalypse in motion. Technology and contemporary world-views are present in the story, but supernatural phenomena have been hidden from humans just up until the beginning of The Survivors’ Saga. The narrative in this first book of the trilogy spans the area of Iceland, Iraq, Sweden, USA and Canada. The author gives his own expanded version of the myths taken from Snorri Sturluson and the Eddas by way of flashbacks, conveying a deeper understanding of the background of the protagonists, their dealings and disputes. REVIEWS “A knock-out Icelandic fantasy.” (Morgunblaðið newspaper) “The world Emil creates is convincing and the narration is entertaining.” (Kiljan, Icelandic National TV) “A thrilling story that is both a fascinating adventure and a portrayal of the present. Emil Hjörvar brings a unique life to the key-characters of Norse mythology, while simultaneously raising the question: What happened after Ragnarök? The Survivors’ Saga is the answer.” (Óttar M. Norðfjörð, author) EMIL H. PETERSEN / THE SURVIVOR’S SAGA 4 SAMPLE TRANSLATION CHAPTER ONE Rejuvenation In the beginning of September in the year 2010 after Christ the latter, or seven thousand and ten years after Ragnarök, no one was present to deliver the apples of youth. Hodur took a bite out of a bad apple. To feel the juice rejuvenate muscles, skin and bodily fluids was the only positive thing he had experienced since arriving in Iceland. A whole age had passed since he set foot there and he hoped as before that few would notice his passing. He stood on a patio outside a small lonely shack, a poorly built refuge of the Aesir, which had undergone transformations through the ages, but was presently disguised as a fruit store in the center of a town which bore the name Hveragerdi. Hodur claimed he was bound to nothing but this one place. The fruit store had been left open and empty. After a moment’s desperation, accompanied by rummaging, fumbling and sniffing, he had finally found a single, bruised apple on the floor, covered with sticky dust. He could not know how long the apple had been lying there. But not for too long, evidently, since apples of youth did not start to rot until after many decades. Contrary to ordinary apples, they turned sour with time at room temperature. Hodur thought it indicated that a considerable time had passed. It did not matter, he needed to get younger. Once every century, in order to sustain his life, Hodur was forced to take a journey to the so-called civilization. He tended to hold the sentiment that it was pointless, particularly because he felt like he had no role. Despite this, he could not allow himself to skip this necessary tradition, for he had faint hopes that someday, perhaps, he would be required. So he needed to be alive. A touch of responsibility – deep within his mind – remained. […] CHAPTER TWO A Morning in a Desert Baldur woke up, covered in sweat. The oxygen had nearly run out in the tent and the smell was unbearable. He crawled into the morning mugginess but was quick to his feet; the sand was scorching. The members of the merchant family were awake and pottered about, folding the tents, getting the breakfast ready and rekindling the pyre which had gone out during the night. The camp formed a semicircle around a dried tree in the middle of the desert. By the tree stood two tethered and burdened camels. Only one day more and they would be at the Euphrates. Baldur inhaled deeply and stared up while he stretched. The sky was powder-blue, no clouds in sight and the horizon wreathed in the heat. They had entirely forgotten to bring sunscreen and as a result Baldur’s white skin burned on the first days, but it had healed by now and turned hazel. Save for his peeled nose and ears. He turned back to the tent and peeked in. His companion snored loudly. […] * * * Riotous laughter and shouting, the mugs are slammed on the wooden tables after each draught, the music of the lute and the drums is fraught with tension. EMIL H. PETERSEN / THE SURVIVOR’S SAGA 5 Hodur sits at the rearmost table while all the others gather and form a semicircle around one of the higher tables. Weapons and random objects are thrown at a blond and white- dressed man standing on the table with open arms. The weapons hit him, they have no effect and fall down to the floor, like they had been thrown at a stone. The blond man grins and through his laughter one can tell how pleased he is with the attention and life in general. But Hodur interprets it as self-satisfaction. Hodur is sick and tired of this part of the feast. Always the same playacting and he cannot take part in it. The only thing he can do is to slurp the mead. “Aren’t you sick of this?” whispers a serpentine voice into Hodur’s ear, startling him. “You can sneak, Loki, I’ll give you that.” Hodur tries to keep calm. “It’s nearly impossible to notice your footsteps.” Loki laughs a dampened laughter and slides his hand behind his back. “Isn’t it miserable to sit here and listen to these fools? You should see Baldur’s shining smile. He thinks he’s invincible. That fool.” “Watch out,” Hodur answers, a bit tipsy from the mead. He faces Loki. “You shouldn’t talk about my brother like that, even though he is … even though he did … Truly I’m not the most loved son, I’m not really noticed that much, but I could break your neck with one hand if I felt like it.” “Hah, take it easy, I didn’t mean it that way,” Loki quipped. “Even though he what? Did what? Snatched her from you? Stole her from you.” He whispers the words but puts heavy stress on them; pretend commiseration. Hodur feels a slender object being pushed into his palm. The fingers feel it until he discovers that its tip has a pungent smell, is dry and rough to the touch.